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UARDA 


A ROMANCE OF ANCIENT EGYPT 


BY 

GEORG EBERS 

AUTHOR OF SERAPIS, ETC. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 

By CLARA BELL 


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D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

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Copyright, 1881, 

By WILLIAM S. GOTTSBERGER. 


Authorized Edition. 




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DEDICATION. 


Thou knowest well from what this book arose. 
When suffering seized and held me in its clasp 
Thy fostering hand released me from its grasp, 
And from amid the thorns there bloomed a rose. 
Air, dew, and sunshine were bestowed by Thee, 
And Thine it is; without these lines from me. 



PREFACE. 


In the winter of 1873 I spent some weeks in one 
of the tombs of the Necropolis of Thebes in order to 
study the monuments of that solemn city of the dead; 
and during my long rides in the silent desert the germ 
was developed whence this book has since grown. The 
leisure of mind and body required to write it was 
given me through a long but not disabling illness. 

In the first instance I intended to elucidate this 
story—like my “Egyptian Princess”—with numerous 
and extensive notes placed at the end; but I was led to 
give up this plan from finding that it would lead me 
to the repetition of much that I had written in the 
notes to that earlier work. 

The numerous notes to the former novel had a 
threefold purpose. In the first place they served to 
explain the text; in the second they were a guarantee 
of the care with which I had striven to depict the 
archaeological details in all their individuality from the 
records of the monuments and of Classic Authors; and 
thirdly I hoped to supply the reader who desired further 
knowledge of the period with some guide to his studies. 

In the present work I shall venture to content my¬ 
self with the simple statement that I have introduced 
nothing as proper to Egypt and to the period of 
Rameses that cannot be proved by some authority; the 
numerous monuments which have descended to us from 
the time of the Rameses, in fact enable the enquirer 
to understand much of the aspect and arrangement of 
Egyptian life, and to follow it step by step through the 
details of religious, public, and private life, even of 



II 


PREFACE. 


particular individuals. The same remark cannot be 
made in regard to their mental life, and here many an 
anachronism will slip in, many things will appear 
modern, and show the coloring of the Christian mode 
of thought. 

Every part of this book is intelligible without the 
aid of notes; but, for the reader who seeks for further 
enlightenment, I have added some foot-notes, and have 
not neglected to mention such works as afford more 
detailed information on the subjects mentioned in the 
narrative. 

The reader who wishes to follow the mind of the 
author in this work should not trouble himself with the 
notes as he reads, but merely at the beginning of each 
chapter read over the notes which belong to the fore¬ 
going one. Every glance at the foot-notes must neces¬ 
sarily disturb and injure the development of the tale 
as a work of art. The story stands here as it flowed 
from one fount, and was supplied with notes only after 
its completion. 

A narrative of Herodotus combined with the Epos 
of Pentaur, of which so many copies have been handed 
down to us, forms the foundation of the story. 

The treason of the Regent related by the Father 
of history is referable perhaps to the reign of the third 
and not of the second Rameses. But it is by no means 
certain that the Halicarnassian writer was in this case 
misinformed; and in this fiction no history will be in¬ 
culcated, only as a background shall I offer a sketch 
of the time of Sesostris, from a picturesque point of 
view, but with the nearest possible approach to truth. 
It is true that to this end nothing has been neglected 
that could be learnt from the monuments or the pa- 


PREFACE. 


Ill 


pyri; still the book is only a romance, a poetic fiction, 
in which I wish all the facts derived from history and 
all the costume drawn from the monuments to be 
regarded as incidental, and the emotions of the actors 
in the story as what I attach importance to. 

But I must be allowed to make one observation. 

From studying the conventional mode of execution 
of ancient Egyptian art—which was strictly subject to 
the hieratic laws of type and proportion—we have ac¬ 
customed ourselves to imagine the inhabitants of the 
Nile-valley in the time of the Pharaohs as tall and 
haggard men with little distinction of individual phys¬ 
iognomy, and recently a great painter has sought to 
represent them under this aspect in a modern picture. 

This is an error; the Egyptians, in spite of their 
aversion to foreigners and their strong attachment to 
their native soil, were one of the most intellectual and 
active people of antiquity; and he who would represent 
them as they lived, and to that end copies the forms 
which remain painted on the walls of the temples and 
sepulchres, is the accomplice of those priestly corrupters 
of art who compelled the painters and sculptors of the 
Pharaonic era to abandon truth to nature in favor of 
their sacred laws of proportion. 

He who desires to paint the ancient Egyptians with 
truth and fidelity, must regard it in some sort as an act 
of enfranchisement; that is to say, he must release the 
conventional forms from those fetters which were pecu¬ 
liar to their art and altogether foreign to their real life. 
Indeed, works of sculpture remain to us of the time of 
the first pyramid, which represent men with the truth 
of nature, unfettered by the sacred canon. We can 
recall the so-called “Village Judge” ofBulaq, the “Scribe” 


IV 


PREFACE. 


now in Paris, and a few figures in bronze in different 
museums, as well as the noble and characteristic busts 
of all epochs, which amply prove how great the variety 
of individual physiognomy, and, with that, of individual 
character was among the Egyptians. Alma Tadema in 
London and Gustav Richter in Berlin have, as painters, 
treated Egyptian subjects in a manner which the poet 
recognizes and accepts with delight. 

Many earlier witnesses than the late writer Flavius 
Vopiscus might be referred to who show us the Egyp¬ 
tians as an industrious and peaceful people, passionately 
devoted it is true to all that pertains to the other 
world, but also enjoying the gifts of life to the fullest 
extent, nay sometimes to excess. 

Real men, such as we see around us in actual life, 
not silhouettes constructed to the old priestly scale such 
as the monuments show us—real living men dwelt by 
the old Nile-stream; and the poet who would represent 
them must courageously seize on types out of the daily 
life of modern men that surround him, without fear of 
deviating too far from reality, and, placing them in their 
own long past time, color them only and clothe them 
to correspond with it. 

I have discussed the authorities for the conception 
of love which I have ascribed to the ancients in the 
preface to the second edition of “An Egyptian Princess.” 

With these lines I send Uarda into the world; and 
in them I add my thanks to those dear friends in whose 
beautiful home, embowered in green, bird-haunted woods, 
I have so often refreshed my spirit and recovered my 
strength, where I now write the last words of this book. 

RheinbollerhUtte, September 22, 1876. 


Georg Ebers. 


PREFACE 


TO THE FIFTH GERMAN EDITION. 


The earlier editions of “Uarda” were published in 
such rapid succession, that no extensive changes in the 
stereotyped text could be made; but from the first issue, 
I have not ceased to correct it, and can now present to 
the public this new fifth edition as a “ revised” one. 

Having felt a constantly increasing affection for 
“Uarda” during the time I was writing, the friendly and 
comprehensive attention bestowed upon it by our 
greatest critics and the favorable reception it met with 
in the various classes of society, afforded me the utmost 
pleasure. 

I owe the most sincere gratitude to the honored 
gentlemen, who called my attention to certain errors, 
and among them will name particularly Professor Paul 
Ascherson of Berlin, and Dr. C. Rohrbach of Gotha. 
Both will find their remarks regarding mistakes in the 
geographical location of plants, heeded in this new 
edition. 

The notes, after mature deliberation, have been 
placed at the foot of the pages instead of at the end of 
the book. 

So many criticisms concerning the title “Uarda” 
have recently reached my ears, that, rather by way of 
explanation than apology, I will here repeat what I said 
in the preface to the third edition. 

This title has its own history, and the more difficult 
it would be for me to defend it, the more ready I am to 
allow an advocate to speak for me, an advocate who 



VI 


PREFACE. 


bears a name no less distinguished than that of G. E. 
Lessing, who says: 

“Nanine? (by Voltaire, 1749). What sort of title 
is that? What thoughts does it awake ? Neither more 
nor less than a title should arouse. A title must not 
be a bill of fare. The less it betrays of the contents, 
the better it is. Author and spectator are both satis¬ 
fied, and the ancients rarely gave their comedies any¬ 
thing but insignificant names.” 

This may be the case with “Uarda,” whose charac¬ 
ter is less prominent than some others, it is true, but 
whose sorrows direct the destinies of my other heroes 
and heroines. 

Why should I conceal the fact? The character of 
“Uarda” and the present story have grown out of the 
memory of a Fellah girl, half child, half maiden, whom 
I saw suffer and die in a hut at Abd el Qurnah in the 
Necropolis of Thebes. 

I still persist in the conviction I have so frequently 
expressed, the conviction that the fundamental traits of 
the life of the soul have undergone very trivial modifi¬ 
cations among civilized nations in all times and ages, 
but will endeavor to explain the contrary opinion, held 
by my opponents, by calling attention to the circum¬ 
stance, that the expression of these emotions show con¬ 
siderable variations among different peoples, and at dif¬ 
ferent epochs. I believe that Juvenal, one of the 
ancient writers who best understood human nature, was 
right in saying: 

“ Nil erit ulterius, quod nostris moribus addat 
Posteritas: eadem cupient facientque minores.” 

Leipsic, October 15th, 1877. 


Georg Ebers. 


I 


U A R D A . 


CHAPTER I. 

By the walls of Thebes—the old city of a hundred 
gates—the Nile spreads to a broad river; the heights, 
which follow the stream on both sides, here take a more 
decided outline; solitary, almost cone-shaped peaks 
stand out sharply from the level background of the 
many-colored limestone hills, on which no palm-tree 
flourishes and in which no humble desert-plant can 
strike root. Rocky crevasses and gorges cut more 
or less deeply into the mountain range, and up to its 
ridge extends the desert, destructive of all life, with 
sand and stones, with rocky cliffs and reef-like, desert 
hills. 

Behind the eastern range the desert spreads to the 
Red Sea; behind the western it stretches without limit, 
into infinity. In the belief of the Egyptians beyond it 
lay the region of the dead. 

Between these two ranges of hills, which serve as 
walls or ramparts to keep back the desert-sand, flows 
the fresh and bounteous Nile, bestowing blessing and 
abundance; at once the father and the cradle of millions 
of beings. On each shore spreads the wide plain of 
black and fruitful soil, and in the depths many-shaped 
creatures, in coats of mail or scales, swarm and find 
subsistence. 



6 


UARDA. 


The lotos floats on the mirror of the waters, and 
among the papyrus reeds by the shore water-fowl in¬ 
numerable build their nests. Between the river and 
the mountain-range lie fields, which after the seed-time 
are of a shining blue-green, and towards the time of 
harvest glow like gold. Near the brooks and water¬ 
wheels here and there stands a shady sycamore; and 
date-palms, carefully tended, group themselves in groves. 
The fruitful plain, watered and manured every year by 
the inundation, lies at the foot of the sandy desert-hills 
behind it, and stands out like a garden flower-bed from 
the gravel-path. 

In the fourteenth century before Christ—for to so 
remote a date we must direct the thoughts of the 
reader—impassable limits had been set by the hand of 
man, in many places in Thebes, to the inroads of the 
water; high dykes of stone and embankments protected 
the streets and squares, the temples and the palaces, 
from the overflow. 

Canals that could be tightly closed up led from the 
dykes to the land within, and smaller branch-cuttings to 
the gardens of Thebes. 

On the right, the eastern bank of the Nile, rose the 
buildings of the far-famed residence of the Pharaohs. 
Close by the river stood the immense and gaudy 
Temples of the city of Amon; behind these and at a 
short distance from the Eastern hills—indeed at their 
very foot and partly even on the soil of the desert—were 
the palaces of the King and nobles, and the shady 
streets in which the high narrow houses of the citizens 
stood in close rows. 

Life was gay and busy in the streets of the 
capital of the Pharaohs. 


UARDA. 


7 


The western shore of the Nile showed a quite dif¬ 
ferent scene. Here too there was no lack of stately 
buildings or thronging men; but while on the farther 
side of the river there was a compact mass of houses, 
and the citizens went cheerfully and openly about 
their day’s work, on this side there were solitary 
splendid structures, round which little houses and huts 
seemed to cling as children cling to the protection 
of a mother. And these buildings lay in detached 
groups. 

Any one climbing the hill and looking down would 
form the notion that there lay below him a number of 
neighboring villages, each with its lordly manor house. 
Looking from the plain up to the precipice of the 
western hills, hundreds of closed portals could be seen, 
some solitary, others closely ranged in rows; a great 
number of them towards the foot of the slope, yet 
more half-way up, and a few at a considerable height. 

And even more dissimilar were the slow-moving, 
solemn groups in the roadways on this side, and 
the cheerful, confused throng yonder. There, on the 
eastern shore, all were in eager pursuit of labor or 
recreation, stirred by pleasure or by grief, active in deed 
and speech; here, in the west, little was spoken, a spell 
seemed to check the footstep of the wanderer, a pale 
hand to sadden the bright glance of every eye, and to 
banish the smile from every lip. 

And yet many a gaily-dressed bark stopped at the 
shore, there was no lack of minstrel bands, grand 
processions passed on to the western heights; but the 
Nile boats bore the dead, the songs sung here were 
songs of lamentation, and the processions consisted of 
mourners following the sarcophagus. 


8 


UARDA. 


We are standing on the soil of the City of the 
Dead of Thebes. 

Nevertheless even here nothing is wanting for return 
and revival, for to the Egyptian his dead died not. 
He closed his eyes, he bore him to the Necropolis, to 
the house of the embalmer, or Kolchytes, and then to 
the grave; but he knew that the souls of the departed 
lived on; that the justified absorbed into Osiris floated 
over the Heavens in the vessel of the Sun; that they 
appeared on earth in the form they choose to take upon 
them, and that they might exert influence on the cur¬ 
rent of the lives of the survivors. So he took care to 
give a worthy interment to his dead, above all to, have 
the body embalmed so as to endure long: and had 
fixed times to bring fresh offerings for the dead of 
flesh and fowl, with drink-offerings and sweet-smelling 
essences, and vegetables and flowers. 

Neither at the obsequies nor at the offerings 
might the ministers of the gods be absent, and the 
silent City of the Dead was regarded as a favored 
sanctuary in which to establish schools and dwellings 
for the learned. 

So it came to pass that in the temples and on 
the site of the Necropolis, large communities of priests 
dwelt together, and close to the extensive embalming 
houses lived numerous Kolchytes, who handed down 
the secrets of their art from father to son. 

Besides these there were other manufactories and 
shops. In the former, sarcophagi of stone and of wood, 
linen bands for enveloping mummies, and amulets for 
decorating them, were made; in the latter, merchants 
kept spices and essences, flowers, fruits, vegetables and 
pastry for sale. Calves, gazelles, goats, geese and 


UARDA. 


9 


other fowl, were fed on enclosed meadow-plats, and 
the mourners betook themselves thither to select what 
they needed from among the beasts pronounced by the 
priests to be clean for sacrifice, and to have them 
sealed with the sacred seal. Many bought only part 
of a victim at the shambles—the poor could not even 
do this. They bought only colored cakes in the 
shape of beasts, which symbolically took the place of 
the calves and geese which their means were unable 
to procure. In the handsomest shops sat servants of 
the priests, who received forms written on rolls of 
papyrus which were filled up in the writing room of 
the temple with those sacred verses which the departed 
spirit must know and repeat to ward off the evil genius 
of the deep, to open the gate of the under world, and 
to be held righteous before Osiris and the forty-two 
assessors of the subterranean court of justice. 

What took place within the temples was concealed 
from view, for each was surrounded by a high enclosing 
wall with lofty, carefully-closed portals, which were 
only opened when a chorus of priests came out to 
sing a pious hymn, in the morning to Horus the rising 
god, and in the evening to Turn the descending god.* 

As soon as the evening hymn of the priests was 
heard, the Necropolis was deserted, for the mourners 
and those who were visiting the graves were required 
by this time to return to their boats and to quit the 
City of the Dead. Crowds of men who had marched 
in the processions of the west bank hastened in disorder 


* The course of the Sun was compared to that of the life of Man. He 
rose as the child Horus, grew by midday to the hero Ra, who conquered 
the Urseus snake for his diadem, and by evening was an old Man, Turn. Light 
had been born of darkness, hence Turn was regarded as older than Horus and 
the other gods of light. 


IO 


UARDA. 


to the shore, driven on by the body of watchmen who 
took it in turns to do this duty and to protect the 
graves against robbers. The merchants closed their 
booths, the embalmers and workmen ended their day’s 
work and retired to their houses, the priests returned 
to the temples, and the inns were filled with guests, 
who had come hither on long pilgrimages from a 
distance, and who preferred passing the night in the 
vicinity of the dead Avhom they had come to visit, 
to going across to the bustling noisy city on the 
farther shore. 

The voices of the singers and of the wailing -women 
were hushed, even the song of the sailors on the num¬ 
berless ferry boats from the western shore to Thebes 
died away, its faint echo was now and then borne 
across on the evening air, and at last all was still. 

A cloudless sky spread over the silent City of the 
Dead, now and then darkened for an instant by the 
swiftly passing shade of a bat returning to its home in 
a cave or cleft of the rock after flying the whole even¬ 
ing near the Nile to catch flies, to drink, and so pre¬ 
pare itself for the next day’s sleep. From time to 
time black forms with long shadows glided over the 
still illuminated plain—the Jackals, who at this hour 
frequented the shore to slake their thirst, and often 
fearlessly showed themselves in troops in the vicinity 
of the pens of geese and goats. 

It was forbidden to hunt these robbers, as they 
were accounted sacred to the god Anubis,* the tutelary 

* The jackal-headed god Anubis was the son of Osiris and Nephthys, and 
the jackal was sacred to him. In the earliest ages even he is prominent in the 
nether world. He conducts the mummifying process, preserves the corpse, 
guards the Necropolis, and, as Hermes Psychopompos (Hermanubis), opens 
the way for the souls. According to Plutarch “ He is the watch of the gods 
as the dog is the watch of men.” 



UARDA. 


II 


of sepulchres; and indeed they did little mischief, for 
they found abundant food in the tombs. 

The remnants of the meat offerings from the altars 
were consumed by them; to the perfect satisfaction of the 
devotees, who, when they found that by the following day 
the meat had disappeared, believed that it had been ac¬ 
cepted and taken away by the spirits of the underworld. 

They also did the duty of trusty watchers, for they 
were a dangerous foe for any intruder who, under the 
shadow of the night, might attempt to violate a grave. 

Thus—on that summer evening of the year 1352 
b. c., when we invite the reader to accompany us to 
the Necropolis of Thebes—after the priests’ hymn had 
died away, all was still in the City of the Dead. 

The soldiers on guard were already returning from 
their first round when suddenly, on the north side of 
the Necropolis, a dog barked loudly; soon a second 
took up the cry, a third, a fourth. The captain of the 
watch called to his men to halt, and, as the cry of the 
dogs spread and grew louder every minute, commanded 
them to march towards the north. 

The little troop had reached the high dyke which 
divided the west bank of the Nile from a branch canal, 
and looked from thence over the plain as far as the 
river and to the north of the Necropolis. Once more 
the word to “ halt ” was given, and as the guard per¬ 
ceived the glare of torches in the direction where the 
dogs were barking loudest, they hurried forward and 
came up with the author of the disturbance near the 
Pylon* of the temple erected by Seti I., the deceased 
father of the reigning King Rameses II. 

* The two pyramidal towers joined by a gateway which formed the 
entrance to an Egyptian temple were called the Pylon. 


12 


UARDA. 


The moon was up, and her pale light flooded the 
stately structure, while the walls glowed with the 
ruddy smoky light of the torches which flared in the 
hands of black attendants. 

A man of sturdy build, in sumptuous dress, was 
knocking at the brass-covered temple door with the 
metal handle of a whip, so violently that the blows 
rang far and loud through the night. Near him stood 
a litter, and a chariot, to which were harnessed two 
fine horses. In the litter sat a young woman, and in 
the carriage, next to the driver, was the tall figure of 
a lady. Several men of the upper classes and many 
servants stood around the litter and the chariot. Few 
words were exchanged; the whole attention of the 
strangely lighted groups seemed concentrated on the 
temple-gate. The darkness concealed the features of 
individuals, but the mingled light of the moon and the 
torches was enough to reveal to the gate-keeper, who 
looked down on the party from a tower of the Pylon, 
that it was composed of persons of the highest rank; 
nay, perhaps of the royal family. 

He called aloud to the one who knocked, and 
asked him what was his will. 

He looked up, and in a voice so rough and im¬ 
perious, that the lady in the litter shrank in horror as 
its tones suddenly violated the place of the dead, he 
cried out—“ How long are we to wait here for you— 
you dirty hound ? Come down and open the door 
and then ask questions. If the torch-light is not 
bright enough to show you who is waiting, I will score 
our name on your shoulders with my whip, and teach 
you how to receive princely visitors.” 

While the porter muttered an unintelligible answer 


UARDA. 


J 3 


and came down the steps within to open the door, 
the lady in the chariot turned to her impatient com¬ 
panion and said in a pleasant but yet decided voice, 
“ You forget, Paaker, that you are back again in Egypt, 
and that here you have to deal not with the wild 
Schasu,* but with friendly priests of whom we have to 
solicit a favor. We have always had to lament your 
roughness, which seems to me very ill-suited to the 
unusual circumstances under which we approach this 
sanctuary.” 

Although these words were spoken in a tone rather 
of regret than of blame, they wounded the sensibilities 
of the person addressed; his wide nostrils began to 
twitch ominously, he clenched his right hand over the 
handle of his whip, and, while he seemed to be bowing 
humbly, he struck such a heavy blow on the bare leg 
of a slave who was standing near to him, an old 
Ethiopian, that he shuddered as if from sudden cold, 
though—knowing his lord only too well—he let no 
cry of pain escape him. Meanwhile the gate-keeper 
had opened the door, and with him a tall young priest 
stepped out into the open air to ask the will of the 
intruders. 

Paaker would have seized the opportunity of speak¬ 
ing, but the lady in the chariot interposed and said: 

“ I am Bent-Anat, the daughter of the King, and 
this lady in the litter is Nefert, the wife of the noble 
Mena, the charioteer of my father. We were going in 
company with these gentlemen to the north-west valley 
of the Necropolis to see the new works there. You 
know the narrow pass in the rocks which leads up the 
gorge. On the way home I myself held the reins and 


* A Semitic race of robbers in the east of Egypt. 


14 


UARDA. 


I had the misfortune to drive over a girl who sat by 
the road with a basket full of flowers, and to hurt her 
—to hurt her very badly I am afraid. The wife of 
Mena with her own hands bound up the child, and 
then we carried her to her father’s house—he is a para- 
schites*—Pinem is his name. I know not whether he 
is known to you.” 

“ Thou hast been into his house, Princess ?” 

“ Indeed, I was obliged, holy father,” she replied, 
“ I know of course that I have defiled myself by crossing 
the threshold of these people, but—” 

“ But,” cried the wife of Mena, raising herself in her 
litter, “ Bent-Anat can in a day be purified by thee or 
by her house-priest, while she can hardly—or perhaps 
never—restore the child whole and sound again to the 
unhappy father.” 

“ Still, the den of a paraschites is above every thing 
unclean,” said the chamberlain Penbesa, master of the 
ceremonies to the princess, interrupting the wife of Mena, 
“ and I did not conceal my opinion when Bent-Anat 
announced her intention of visiting the accursed hole in 
person. I suggested,” he continued, turning to the priest, 
“ that she should let the girl be taken home, and send 
a royal present to the father.” 

“ And the princess ?” asked the priest. 

“ She acted, as she always does, on her own judg¬ 
ment,” replied the master of the ceremonies. 

“ And that always hits on the right course,” cried 
the wife of Mena. 

“Would to God it were so!” said the princess in a 
subdued voice. Then she continued, addressing the 


* One who opened the bodies of the dead to prepare them for being em¬ 
balmed. 


UARDA. 


*5 

priest, “Thou knowest the will of the Gods and the 
hearts of men, holy father, and I myself know that I 
give alms willingly and help the poor even when there 
is none to plead for them but their poverty. But after 
what has occurred here, and to these unhappy people, it 
is I who come as a suppliant.” 

“Thou?” said the chamberlain. 

“ I,” answered the princess with decision. The priest 
who up to this moment had remained a silent witness 
of the scene raised his right hand as in blessing and 
spoke. 

“Thou hast done well. The Hathors fashioned 
thy heart* and the Lady of Truth guides it. Thou 
hast broken in on our night-prayers to request us to 
send a doctor to the injured girl?” 

“Thou hast said.” 

“I will ask the high-priest to send the best leech 
for outward wounds immediately to the child. But 
where is the house of the paraschites Pinem ? I do not 
know it.” 

“Northwards from the terrace of Hatasu,** close to 
—; but I will charge one of my attendants to conduct 
the leech. Besides, I want to know early in the morn¬ 
ing how the child is doing.—Paaker.” 

The rough visitor, whom we already know, thus 
called upon, bowed to the earth, his arms hanging by 
his sides, and asked: 

* Hathor was Isis under a substantial form. She is the goddess of the 
pure, light heaven, and bears the Sun-disk between cow-horns on a cow’s head 
or on a human head with cow’s ears. She was named the Fair, and all the pure 
joys of life are in her gift. Later she was regarded as a Muse who beautifies 
life with enjoyment, love, song, and the dance. .She appears as a good fairy by 
the cradle of children and decides their lot in life. She bears many names; 
and several, generally seven, Hathors were represented, who personified the 
attributes and influence of the goddess. 

** A great queen of the 18th dynasty and guardian of two Pharaohs. 


16 


UARDA. 


* 


“What dost thou command?” 

“I appoint you guide to the physician,” said the 
princess. “It will be easy to the king’s pioneer* to 
find the little half-hidden house again—besides, you 
share my guilt, for,” she added, turning to the priest, “ I 
confess that the misfortune happened because I would 
try with my horses to overtake Paaker’s Syrian racers, 
which he declared to be swifter than the Egyptian 
horses. It was a mad race.” 

“And Amon be praised that it ended as it did,” 
exclaimed the master of the ceremonies. “Paaker’s 
chariot lies dashed in pieces in the valley, and his best 
horse is badly hurt.” 

“ He will see to him when he has taken the phy¬ 
sician to the house of the paraschites,” said the prin¬ 
cess. “ Dost thou know, Penbesa—thou anxious guar¬ 
dian of a thoughtless girl—that to-day for the first time 
I am glad that my father is at the war in distant Sati- 
land?”** 

“ He would not have welcomed us kindly!” said the 
master of the ceremonies, laughing. 

“But the leech, the leech!” cried Bent-Anat. 
“Paaker, it is settled then. You will conduct him, and 
bring us to-morrow morning news of the wounded 
girl.” 

Paaker bowed; the princess bowed her head; the 
priest and his companions, who meanwhile had come 
out of the temple and joined him, raised their hands in 
blessing, and the belated procession moved towards the 
Nile. 

* The title here rendered pioneer was that of an officer whose duties were 
those at once of a scout and of a Quarter-Mas ter General. In unknown and 
comparatively savage countries it was an onerous post. Translator. 

** Asia. 


UARDA. 


17 


Paaker remained alone with his two slaves; the 
commission with which the princess had charged him 
greatly displeased him. So long as the moonlight en¬ 
abled him to distinguish the litter of Mena’s wife, he 
gazed after it; then he endeavored to recollect the 
position of the hut of the paraschites. The captain of 
the watch still stood with the guard at the gate of the 
temple. 

“ Do you know the dwelling ofPinem the paraschites?” 
asked Paaker. 

“What do you want with him ?” 

“That is no concern of yours,” retorted Paaker. 

“Lout!” exclaimed the captain, “left face and for¬ 
wards, my men.” 

“ Halt!” cried Paaker in a rage. “ I am the king’s 
chief pioneer.” 

“Then you will all the more easily find the way 
back by which you came. March.” 

The words were followed by a peal of many-voiced 
laughter: the re-echoing insult so confounded Paaker 
that he dropped his whip on the ground. The slave, 
whom a short time since he had struck with it, humbly 
picked it up and then followed his lord into the fore¬ 
court of the temple. Both attributed the titter, which 
they still could hear without being able to detect its 
origin, to wandering spirits. But the mocking tones 
had been heard too by the old gate-keeper, and the 
laughers were better known to him than to the king’s 
pioneer; he strode with heavy steps to the door of 
the temple through the black shadow of the pylon, and 
striking blindly before him called out— 


i8 


UARDA. 


“Ah! you good-for-nothing brood of Seth.* You 
gallows-birds and brood of hell—I am coming.” 

The giggling ceased; a few youthful figures appeared 
in the moonlight, the old man pursued them panting, 
and, after a short chase, a troop of youths fled back 
through the temple gate. 

The door-keeper had succeeded in catching one 
miscreant, a boy of thirteen, and held him so tight by 
the ear that his pretty head seemed to have grown in 
a horizontal direction from his shoulders. 

“ I will take you before the school-master, you plague- 
of-locusts, you swarm of bats!” cried the old man out of 
breath. But the dozen of school-boys, who had availed 
themselves of the opportunity to break out of bounds, 
gathered coaxing round him, with words of repentance, 
though every eye sparkled with delight at the fun they 
had had, and of which no one could deprive them; and 
when the biggest of them took the old man’s chin, and 
promised to give him the wine which his mother was 
to send him next day for the week’s use, the porter let 
go his prisoner—who tried to rub the pain out of his 
burning-ear—and cried out in harsher tones than be¬ 
fore : 

“You will pay me, will you, to let you off! Do you 
think I will let your tricks pass? You little know this 
old man. I will complain to the Gods, not to the 
school-master; and as for your wine, youngster, I will 
offer it as a libation, that heaven may forgive you.” 

* The Typhon of the Greeks. The enemy of Osiris, of truth, good and 
purity. Discord and strife in nature. Horns who fights against him for his 
father Osiris, can throw him and stun him, but never annihilate him. 



UARDA. 


x 9 


CHAPTER II. 

The temple where, in the fore-court, Paaker was 
waiting, and where the priest had disappeared to call 
the leech, was called the “ House of Seti ”* and was 
one of the largest in the City of the Dead. Only that 
magnificent building of the time of the deposed royal 
race of the reigning king’s grandfather—that temple 
which had been founded by Thotmes III., and whose 
gate-way Amenophis III. had adorned with immense 
colossal statues**—exceeded it in the extent of its plan; 
in every other respect it held the pre-eminence among 
the sanctuaries of the Necropolis. Rameses I. had 
founded it shortly after he succeeded in seizing the 
Egyptian throne; and his yet greater son Seti carried 
on the erection, in which the service of the dead for the 
Manes of the members of the new royal family was 
conducted, and the high festivals held in honor of the 
Gods of the under-world. Great sums had been ex¬ 
pended for its establishment, for the maintenance of 
the priesthood of its sanctuary, and the support of the 
institutions connected with it. These were intended to 
be equal to the great original foundations of priestly 
learning at Heliopolis and Memphis; they were regu¬ 
lated on the same pattern, and with the object of rais¬ 
ing the new royal residence of Upper Egypt, namely 
Thebes, above the capitals of Lower Egypt in regard 
to philosophical distinction. 

One of the most important of these foundations 

* It is still standing, and known as the temple of Qurnah. 

** The well-known colossal statues, of which that \Vhich stands to the north 
is the famous musical statue, or Pillar of Memnon. 


20 


UARDA. 


was a very celebrated school of learning.* First there 
was the high-school, in which priests, physicians, judges, 
mathematicians, astronomers, grammarians, and other 
learned men, not only had the benefit of instruction, 
but, subsequently, when they had won admission to the 
highest ranks of learning, and attained the dignity of 
“ Scribes,” were maintained at the cost of the king, and 
enabled to pursue their philosophical speculations and 
researches, in freedom from all care, and in the society of 
fellow-workers of equal birth and identical interests. 

An extensive library, in which thousands of papyrus- 
rolls were preserved, and to which a manufactory of 
papyrus was attached, was at the disposal of the learned; 
and some of them were intrusted with the education of 
the younger disciples, who had been prepared in the ele¬ 
mentary school, which was also dependent on the House 
—or university—of Seti. The lower school was open 
to every son of a free citizen, and was often frequented 
by several hundred boys, who also found night-quarters 
there. The parents were of course required either to 
pay for their maintenance, or to send due supplies of 
provisions for the keep of their children at school. 

In a separate building lived the temple-boarders, 
a few sons of the noblest families, who were brought up 
by the priests at a great expense to their parents. 

Seti I., the founder of this establishment, had had 
his own sons, not excepting Rameses, his successor, 
educated here. 

The elementary schools were strictly ruled, and the 
rod played so large a part in them, that a pedagogue 
could record this saying: “The scholar’s ears are at his 
back: when he is flogged then he hears.” 

* Every detail of this description of an Egyptian school 4 s derived from 
sources dating from the reign of Rameses II. and his successor, Merneptah. 


UARDA. 


21 


Those youths who wished to pass up from the 
lower to the high-school had to undergo an examination. 
The student, when he had passed it, could choose a 
master from among the learned of the higher grades, 
who undertook to be his philosophical guide, and to 
whom he remained attached all his life through, as a 
client to his patron. He could obtain the degree of 
“ Scribe” and qualify for public office by a second ex¬ 
amination. 

Near to these schools of learning there stood also 
a school of art, in which instruction was given to stu¬ 
dents who desired to devote themselves to architecture, 
sculpture, or painting; in these also the learner might 
choose his master. 

Every teacher in these institutions belonged to the 
priesthood of the House of Seti. It consisted of more 
than eight hundred members, divided into five classes, 
and conducted by three so-called Prophets. 

The first prophet was the high-priest of the House 
of Seti, and at the same time the superior of all the 
thousands of upper and under servants of the divinities 
which belonged to the City of the Dead of Thebes. 

The temple of Seti proper was a massive structure 
of limestone. A row of Sphinxes led from the Nile 
to the surrounding wall, and to the first vast pro-pylon, 
which formed the entrance to a broad fore-court, en¬ 
closed on the two sides by colonnades, and beyond 
which stood a second gate-way. When he had passed 
through this door, which stood between two towers, in 
shape like truncated pyramids, the stranger came to a 
second court resembling the first, closed at the farther 
end by a noble row of pillars, which formed part of the 
central temple itself. 


22 


UARDA. 


The innermost and last was dimly lighted by a few 
lamps. 

Behind the temple of Seti stood large square struc¬ 
tures of brick of the Nile mud, which however had a 
handsome and decorative effect, as the humble material 
of which they were constructed was plastered with lime, 
and that again was painted with colored pictures and 
hieroglyphic inscriptions. 

The internal arrangement of all these houses was 
the same. In the midst was an open court, on to which 
opened the doors of the rooms of the priests and philos¬ 
ophers. On each side of the court was a shady, covered 
colonnade of wood, and in the midst a tank with 
ornamental plants. In the upper story were the apart¬ 
ments for the scholars, and instruction was usually 
given in the paved courtyard strewn with mats. 

The most imposing was the house of the chief pro¬ 
phets; it was distinguished by its waving standards 
and stood about a hundred paces behind the temple 
of Seti, between a well kept grove and a clear lake—the 
sacred tank of the temple; but they only occupied it 
while fulfilling their office, while the splendid houses 
which they lived in with their wives and children, lay 
on the other side of the river, in Thebes proper. 

The untimely visit to the temple could not remain 
unobserved by the colony of sages. Just as ants 
when a hand breaks in on their dwelling, hurry rest¬ 
lessly hither and thither, so an unwonted stir had 
agitated, not the school-boys only, but the teachers 
and the priests. They collected in groups near the 
outer walls, asking questions and hazarding guesses. 
A messenger from the king had arrived—the princess 
Bent-Anat had been attacked by the Kolchytes—and 


UARDA. 


2 3 


a wag among the school-boys who had got out, declared 
that Paaker, the king’s pioneer, had been brought into 
the temple by force to be made to learn to write 
better. As the subject of the joke had formerly been 
a pupil of the House of Seti, and many delectable 
stories of his errors in penmanship still survived in 
the memory of the later generation of scholars, this 
information was received with joyful applause; and it 
seemed to have a glimmer of probability, in spite of 
the apparent contradiction that Paaker filled one of 
the highest offices near the king, when a grave young 
priest declared that he had seen the pioneer in the 
forecourt of the temple. 

The lively discussion, the laughter and shouting of 
the boys at such an unwonted hour, was not unob¬ 
served by the chief priest. 

This remarkable prelate, Ameni the son of Nebket, 
a scion of an old and noble family, was far more than 
merely the independent head of the temple-brother¬ 
hood, among whom he was prominent for his power 
and wisdom; for all the priesthood in the length and 
breadth of the land acknowledged his supremacy, 
asked his advice in difficult cases, and never resisted 
the decisions in spiritual matters which emanated 
from the House of Seti—that is to say, from Ameni. 
He was the embodiment of the priestly idea; and if at 
times he made heavy—nay extraordinary—demands on 
individual fraternities, they were submitted to, for it 
was known by experience that the indirect roads which 
he ordered them to follow all converged on one goal, 
namely the exaltation of the power and dignity of the 
hierarchy. The king appreciated this remarkable man, 
and had long endeavored to attach him to the court, 


24 


UARDA. 


as keeper of the royal seal; but Ameni was not to be 
induced to give up his apparently modest position; for 
he contemned all outward show and ostentatious titles; 
he ventured sometimes to oppose a decided re¬ 
sistance to the measures of the Pharaoh,* and was not 
minded to give up his unlimited control of the priests 
for the sake of a limited dominion over what seemed to 
him petty external concerns, in the service of a king 
who was only too independent and hard to influence. 

He regularly arranged his mode and habits of life 
in an exceptional way. 

Eight days out of ten he remained in the temple 
entrusted to his charge; two he devoted to his family, 
who lived on the other bank of the Nile; but he let 
no one, not even those nearest to him, know what 
portion of the ten days he gave up to recreation. He 
required only four hours of sleep. This he usually 
took in a dark room which no sound could reach, and 
in the middle of the day; never at night, when the 
coolness and quiet seemed to add to his powers of 
work, and when from time to time he could give him¬ 
self up to the study of the starry heavens. 

All the ceremonials that his position required of 
him, the cleansing, purification, shaving, and fasting he 
fulfilled with painful exactitude, and the outer bespoke 
the inner man. 

Ameni was entering on his fiftieth year; his figure 
was tall, and had escaped altogether the stoutness to 
which at that age the Oriental is liable. The shape 
of his smoothly-shaven head was symmetrical and of 

* Pharaoh is the Hebrew form of the Egyptian Peraa—or Phrah. “The 
great house,” “ sublime house,” or “ high gate ” is the literal meaning. Anther. 
—A remnant of the idea seems to survive in the title “ The Sublime Porte.” 

Translator. 


UARDA. 


2 5 


a long oval; his forehead was neither broad nor high, 
but his profile was unusually delicate, and his face 
striking; his lips were thin and dry, and his large and 
piercing eyes, though neither fiery nor brilliant, and 
usually cast down to the ground under his thick eye¬ 
brows, were raised with a full, clear, dispassionate 
gaze when it was necessary to see and to examine. 

The poet of the House of Seti, the young Pentaur, 
who knew these eyes, had celebrated them in song, 
and had likened them to a well-disciplined army 
which the general allows to rest before and after the 
battle, so that they may march in full strength to 
victory in the fight. 

The refined deliberateness of his nature had in it 
much that was royal as well as priestly; it was partly 
intrinsic and born with him, partly the result of his own 
mental self-control. Pie had many enemies, but calumny 
seldom dared to attack the high character of Ameni. 

The high-priest looked up in astonishment, as the 
disturbance in the court of the temple broke in on his 
studies. 

The room in which he was sitting was spacious 
and cool; the lower part of the walls was lined with 
earthenware tiles, the upper half plastered and painted. 
But little was visible of the masterpieces of the artists 
of the establishment, for almost everywhere they were 
concealed by wooden closets and shelves, in which 
were papyrus-rolls and wax-tablets. A large table, a 
couch covered with a panther’s skin, a footstool in 
. front of it, and on it a crescent-shaped support for 
the head, made of ivory,* several seats, a stand with 

* A support of crescent form on which the Egyptians rested their heads. 
Many specimens were found in the catacombs, and similar objects are still used 
in Nuhi 0 


3 


26 


UARDA. 


beakers and jugs, and another with flasks of all sizes, 
saucers, and boxes, composed the furniture of the room, 
which was lighted by three lamps, shaped like birds and 
filled with kiki oil.* ** 

Ameni wore a fine pleated robe of snow-white 
linen, which reached to his ankles, round his hips was 
a scarf adorned with fringes, which in front formed an 
apron, with broad, stiffened ends which fell to his 
knees; a wide belt of white and silver brocade confined 
the drapery of his robe. Round his throat and far 
down on his bare breast hung a necklace more than a 
span deep, composed of pearls and agates, and his upper 
arm was covered with broad gold bracelets. He rose 
from the ebony seat with lion’s feet, on which he sat, 
and beckoned to a servant who squatted by one of the 
walls of the sitting-room. He rose and without any 
word of command from his master, he silently and 
carefully placed on the high-priest’s bare head a long 
and thick curled wig, ## and threw a leopard-skin, with 
its head and claws overlaid with gold-leaf, over his 
shoulders. A second servant held a metal mirror before 
Ameni, in which he cast a look as he settled the pan¬ 
ther-skin and head-gear. 

A third servant was handing him the crosier, the 
insignia of his dignity as a prelate, when a priest entered 
and announced the scribe Pentaur. 

Ameni nodded, and the young priest who had talked 
with the princess Bent-Anat at the temple-gate came 
into the room. 

Pentaur knelt and kissed the hand of the prelate,. 

* Castor oil, which was used in the lamps. 

** Egyptians belonging to the higher classes wore wigs on their shaven 
heads. Several are preserved in museums. 


UARDA. 


27 


who gave him his blessing, and in a clear sweet voice, 
and rather formal and unfamiliar language—as if he 
were reading rather than speaking, said—- 

“Rise, my son; your visit will save me a walk at 
this untimely hour, since you can inform me of what 
disturbs the disciples in our temple. Speak.” 

“Little of consequence has occurred, holy father,” 
replied Pentaur. “Nor would I have disturbed thee at 
this hour, but that a quite unnecessary tumult has been 
raised by the youths; and that the princess Bent-Anat 
appeared in person to request the aid of a physician. 
The unusual hour and the retinue that followed her—” 
“Is the daughter of Pharaoh sick?” asked the 
prelate. 

“No, father. She is well—even to wantonness, since 
—wishing to prove the swiftness of her horses— 
she ran over the daughter of the paraschites Pinem, 
Noble-hearted as she is, she herself carried the sorely- 
wounded girl to her house. ” 

“She entered the dwelling of the unclean.” 

“Thou hast said.” 

“And she now asks to be purified ?” 

“ I thought I might venture to absolve her, father, 
for the purest humanity led her to the act, which was 
no doubt a breach of discipline, but—” 

“But,” asked the high-priest in a grave voice, and 
he raised his eyes which he had hitherto kept fixed 
on the ground. 

“But,” said the young priest, and now his eyes 
fell, “which can surely be no crime. When Ra* in his 
golden bark sails across the heavens, his light falls as 
freely and as bountifully on the hut of the despised 

* The Egyptian Sun-god. 


28 


UARDA. 


% 


poor as on the Palace of the Pharaohs; and shall the 
tender human heart withhold its pure light—which is 
benevolence—from the wretched, only because they 
are base ?” 

“ It is the poet Pentaur that speaks,” said the 
prelate, “ and not the priest to whom the privilege was 
given to be initiated into the highest grade of the 
sages, and whom I call my brother and my equal. 
I have no advantage over you, young man, but perish¬ 
able learning, which the past has won for you as much 
as for me—nothing but certain perceptions and ex¬ 
periences that offer nothing new to the world, but 
teach us, indeed, that it is our part to maintain all 
that is ancient in living efficacy and practice. That 
which you promised a few weeks since, I many years 
ago vowed to the Gods; to guard knowledge as the 
exclusive possession of the initiated. Like fire, it 
serves those who know its uses to the noblest ends, 
but in the hands of children—and the people, the 
mob, can never ripen into manhood—it is a destroying 
brand, raging and unextinguishable, devouring all 
around it, and destroying all that has been built and 
beautified by the past. And how can we remain ‘ the 
Sages’ and continue to develop and absorb all learn- 
ning within the shelter of our temples, not only without 
endangering the weak, but for their benefit? You 
know and have sworn to act after that knowledge. To 
bind the crowd to the faith and the institutions of 
the fathers is your duty—is the duty of every priest. 
Times have changed, my son; under the old kings 
the fire, of which I spoke figuratively to you—the 
poet—was enclosed in brazen walls which the people 
passed stupidly by. Now I see breaches in the old 


UARDA. 


2 9 


fortifications; the eyes of the uninitiated have been 
sharpened, and one tells the other what he fancies he 
has spied, though half-blinded, through the glowing 
rifts.” 

A slight emotion had given energy to the tones of 
the speaker, and while he held the poet spell-bound 
with his piercing glance he continued: 

“We curse and expel any one of the initiated who 
enlarges these breaches; we punish even the friend 
who idly neglects to repair and close them with beaten 
brass! ” 

“My father!” cried Pentaur, raising his head in 
astonishment while the blood mounted to his cheeks. 

The high-priest went up to him and laid both 
hands on his shoulders. 

They were of equal height and of equally sym¬ 
metrical build; even the outline of their features was 
similar. Nevertheless no one would have taken them 
to be even distantly related; their countenances were 
so infinitely unlike in expression. 

On the face of one were stamped a strong will 
and the power of firmly guiding his life and com¬ 
manding himself; on the other, an amiable desire to 
overlook the faults and defects of the world, and to 
contemplate life as it painted itself in the transfiguring 
magic-mirror of his poet’s soul. Frankness and enjoy¬ 
ment spoke in his sparkling eye, but the subtle smile 
on his lips when he was engaged in a discussion, or 
when his soul was stirred, betrayed that Pentaur, far 
from childlike carelessness, had fought many a severe 
mental battle, and had tasted the dark waters of 
doubt. 

At this moment mingled feelings were struggling 


3° 


UARDA. 


in his soul. He felt as if he must withstand the 
Speaker; and yet the powerful presence of the other 
exercised so strong an influence over his mind, long 
trained to submission, that he was silent, and a pious 
thrill passed through him when Ameni’s hands were 
laid on his shoulders. 

“ I blame you/' said the high-priest, while he firm¬ 
ly held the young man, “ nay, to my sorrow I must 
chastise you; and yet,” he said, stepping back and tak¬ 
ing his right hand, “I rejoice in the necessity, for I love 
you and honor you, as one whom the Unnameable 
has blessed with high gifts and destined to great things. 
Man leaves a weed to grow unheeded or roots it up: 
but you are a noble tree, and I am like the gardener 
who has forgotten to provide it with a prop, and who 
is now thankful to have detected a bend that reminds 
him of his neglect. You look at me enquiringly, and I 
can see in your eyes that I seem to you a severe judge. 
Of what are you accused? You have suffered an in¬ 
stitution of the past to be set aside. It does not matter 
—so the short-sighted and heedless think; but I say 
to you, you have doubly transgressed, because the 
wrong-doer was the king’s daughter, whom all look up 
to, great and small, and whose actions may serve as 
an example to the people. On whom then must a 
breach of the ancient institutions lie with the darkest 
stain if not on the highest in rank ? In a few days it 
will be said the paraschites are men even as we are, 
and the old law to avoid them as unclean is folly. And 
will the reflections of the people, think you, end there, 
when it is so easy for them to say that he who errs in 
one point may as well fail in all ? In questions of faith, 
my son, nothing is insignificant. If we open one tower 


UARDA. 


3 1 

to the enemy he is master of the whole fortress. In 
these unsettled times our sacred lore is like a chariot 
on the declivity of a precipice, and under the wheels 
thereof a stone. A child takes away the stone, and the 
chariot rolls down into the abyss and is dashed to 
pieces. Imagine the princess to be that child, and the 
stone a loaf that she would fain give to feed a beggar. 
Would you then give it to her if your father and your 
mother and all that is dear and precious to you were 
in the chariot ? Answer not! the princess will visit the 
paraschites again to-morrow. You must await her in 
the man’s hut, and there inform her that she has trans¬ 
gressed and must crave to be purified by us. For this 
time you are excused from any further punishment. 
Heaven has bestowed on you a gifted soul. Strive for 
that which is wanting to you—the strength to subdue, 
to crush for One—and you know that One—all things 
else—even the misguiding voice of your heart, the 
treacherous voice of your judgment.—But stay! send 
leeches to the house of the paraschites, and desire them 
to treat the injured girl as though she were the queen 
herself. Who knows where the man dwells ?” 

“The princess,” replied Pentaur, “has left Paaker, 
the king’s pioneer, behind in the temple to conduct the 
leeches to the house of Pinem.” 

The grave high-priest smiled and said. “ Paaker! to 
attend the daughter of a paraschites.” 

Pentaur half beseechingly and half in fun raised his 
eyes which he had kept cast down. “ And Pentaur,” 
he murmured, “ the gardener’s son! who is to refuse 
absolution to the king’s daughter!” 

“ Pentaur, the minister of the Gods—Pentaur, the 
priest—has not to do with the daughter of the king. 


3 2 


UARDA. 


but with the transgressor of the sacred institutions,” 
replied Ameni gravely. “ Let Paaker know I wish to 
speak with him.” 

The poet bowed low and quitted the room, the high - 
priest muttered to himself: “ He is not yet what he 
should be, and speech is of no effect with him.” 

For a while he was silent, walking to and fro in 
meditation; then he said half aloud, “ And the boy is 
destined to great things. What gifts of the Gods doth 
he lack ? He has the faculty of learning—of thinking 
—of feeling—of winning all hearts, even mine. He 
keeps himself undefiled and separate—” suddenly the 
prelate paused and struck his hand on the back of a 
chair that stood by him. “ I have it; he has not yet 
felt the fire of ambition. We will light it for his pro¬ 
fit and our own.” 


CHAPTER III. 

Pentaur hastened to execute the commands of the 
high-priest. He sent a servant to escort Paaker, who 
was waiting in the forecourt, into the presence of Ameni 
while he himself repaired to the physicians to impress 
on them the most watchful care of the unfortunate 
girl. 

Many proficients in the healing arts* were brought 
up in the house of Seti, but few used to remain after 
passing the examination for the degree of Scribe. The 

_ * What is here stated with regard to the medical schools is principally 
derived from the medical writings of the Egyptians themselves, among whieh 
the “ Ebers Papyrus” holds the first place, “Medical Papyrus I.” of Berlin 
the second, and a hieratic MS. in London which, like the first mentioned, 
has come down to us from the 18th dynasty, lakes the third. Also see 
Herodotus II. 84. Diodorus I. 82. 


UARDA. 


33 


most gifted were sent to Heliopolis, where flourished, in 
the great “ Hall of the Ancients,” the most celebrated 
medical faculty of the whole country, whence they re¬ 
turned to Thebes, endowed with the highest honors in 
surgery, in ocular treatment, or in any other branch of 
their profession, and became physicians to the king or 
made a living by imparting their learning and by being 
called in to consult on serious cases. 

Naturally most of the doctors lived on the east bank 
of the Nile, in Thebes proper, and even in private houses 
with their families; but each was attached to a priestly 
college. 

Whoever required a physician sent for him, not to 
his own house, but to a temple. There a statement 
was required of the complaint from which the sick 
person was suffering, and it was left to the principal 
of the medical staff of the sanctuary to select that 
master of the healing art whose special knowledge 
appeared to him to be suited for the treatment of the 
case. 

Like all priests, the physicians lived on the income 
which came to them from their landed property, from 
the gifts of the king, the contributions of the laity, and 
the share which was given them of the state-revenues; 
they expected no honorarium from their patients, but 
the restored sick seldom neglected making a present to 
the sanctuary whence a physician had come to them, 
and it was not unusual for the priestly leech to make 
the recovery of the sufferer conditional on certain gifts 
to be offered to the temple. 

The medical knowledge of the Egyptians was, ac¬ 
cording to every indication, very considerable; but it 
was natural that physicians, who stood by the bed of 


34 


UARDA. 


sickness as “ ordained servants of the Divinity,” should 
not be satisfied with a rational treatment of the sufferer, 
and should rather think that they could not dispense 
with the mystical effects of prayers and vows. 

Among the professors of medicine in the House of 
Seti there were men of the most different gifts and bent 
of mind; but Pentaur was not for a moment in doubt 
as to which should be entrusted with the treatment of 
the girl who had been run over, and for whom he felt 
the greatest sympathy. 

The one he chose was the grandson of a celebrated 
leech, long since dead, whose name of Nebsecht he 
had inherited, and a beloved school-friend and old com¬ 
rade of Pentaur. 

This young man had from his earliest years shown 
high and hereditary talent for the profession to which 
he had devoted himself; he had selected surgery* for 
his special province at Heliopolis, and would certainly 
have attained the dignity of teacher there if an impedi¬ 
ment in his speech had not debarred him from the viva 
voce recitation of formulas and prayers. 

This circumstance, which was deeply lamented by 
his parents and tutors, was in fact, in the best opinions, 
an advantage to him; for it often happens that apparent 
superiority does us damage, and that from apparent de¬ 
fect springs the saving of our life. 

Thus, while the companions of Nebsecht were em¬ 
ployed in declaiming or in singing, he, thanks to his 
fettered tongue, could give himself up to his inherited 
and almost passionate love of observing organic life; and 

* Among the six hermetic books of medicine mentioned by Clement of 
Alexandria, was one devoted to surgical instruments: otherwise the very badly- 
set fractures found in some of the mummies do little honor to die Egyptian 
surgeons. 


UARDA. 


35 


his teachers indulged up to a certain point his innate 
spirit of investigation, and derived benefit from his 
knowledge of the human and animal structures, and 
from the dexterity of his handling. 

His deep aversion for the magical part of his profes¬ 
sion would have brought him heavy punishment, nay 
very likely would have cost him expulsion from the 
craft, if he had ever given it expression in any form. 
But Nebsecht’s was the silent and reserved nature of 
the learned man, who free from all desire of external 
recognition, finds a rich satisfaction in the delights of 
investigation; and he regarded every demand on him 
to give proof of his capacity, as a vexatious but un¬ 
avoidable intrusion on his unassuming but laborious 
and fruitful investigations. 

Nebsecht was dearer and nearer to Pentaur than 
any other of his associates. 

He admired his learning and skill; and when the 
slightly-built surgeon, who was indefatigable in his wan¬ 
derings, roved through the thickets by the Nile, the 
desert, or the mountain range, the young poet-priest ac¬ 
companied him with pleasure and with great benefit to 
himself, for his companion observed a thousand things to 
which without him he would have remained for ever 
blind; and the objects around him, which were known 
to him only by their shapes, derived connection and sig¬ 
nificance from the explanations of the naturalist, whose 
intractable tongue moved freely when it was required to 
expound to his friend the peculiarities of organic beings 
whose development he had been the first to detect. 

The poet was dear in the sight of Nebsecht, and he 
loved Pentaur, who possessed all the gifts he lacked; 
manly beauty, childlike lightness of heart, the frankest 


UARDA. 


3 6 

openness, artistic power, and the gift of expressing in 
word and song every emotion that stirred his soul. 

The poet was as a novice in the order in which 
Nebsecht was master, but quite capable of understand¬ 
ing its most difficult points; so it happened that Neb¬ 
secht attached greater value to his judgment than to 
that of his own colleagues, who showed themselves 
fettered by prejudice, while Pentaur’s decision always 
was free and unbiassed. 

The naturalist’s room lay on the ground floor, and 
had no living-rooms above it, being under one of the 
granaries attached to the temple. It was as large as a 
public hall, and yet Pentaur, making his way towards 
the silent owner of the room, found it everywhere 
strewed with thick bundles of every variety of plant, 
with cages of palm-twigs piled four or five high, and a 
number of jars, large and small, covered with perforated 
paper. Within these prisons moved all sorts of living 
creatures, from the jerboa, the lizard of the Nile, and a 
light-colored species of owl, to numerous specimens of 
frogs, snakes, scorpions and beetles. 

On the solitary table in the middle of the room, 
near to a writing-stand, lay bones of animals, with va¬ 
rious sharp flints and bronze knives. 

In a corner of this room lay a mat, on which stood 
a wooden head-prop, indicating that the naturalist was 
in the habit of sleeping on it. 

When Pentaur’s step was heard on the threshold of 
this strange abode, its owner pushed a rather large ob¬ 
ject under the table, threw a cover over it, and hid a 
sharp flint scalpel* fixed into a wooden handle, which 

* The Egyptians seem to have preferred to use flint instruments for surgi¬ 
cal purposes, at any rate for the opening of bodies and for circumcision. Many 
flint instruments have been found and preserved in museums. 


UARDA. 


37 


he had just been using, in the folds of his robe—as a 
school-boy might hide some forbidden game from his 
master. Then he crossed his arms, to give himself the 
aspect of a man who is dreaming in harmless idleness. 

The solitary lamp, which was fixed on a high stand 
near his chair, shed a scanty light, which, however, suf¬ 
ficed to show him his trusted friend Pentaur, who had 
disturbed Nebsecht in his prohibited occupations. Neb- 
secht nodded to him as he entered, and, when he had 
seen who it was, said: 

“You need not have frightened me so!” Then he 
drew out from under the table the object he had hidden 
—a living rabbit fastened down to a board—and con¬ 
tinued his interrupted observations on the body, which 
he had opened and fastened back with wooden pins 
while the heart continued to beat. 

He took no further notice of Pentaur, who for some 
time silently watched the investigator; then he laid his 
hand on his shoulder and said: 

“Lock your door more carefully, when you are 
busy with forbidden things.” 

“They took—they took away the bar of the door 
lately,” stammered the naturalist, “when they caught 
me dissecting the hand of the forger Ptahmes.”* 

“The mummy of the poor man will find its right 
hand wanting,” answered the poet. 

“ He will not want it out there.” 

“Did you bury the least bit of an image in his 
grave?”** 

“ Nonsense.” 

* The law sentenced forgers to lose a hand. 

** Small statuettes, placed in graves to help the dead in the work performed In 
the under-world. They have axes and ploughs in their hands, and seed-bags on 
their backs. The sixth chapter of the Look of the Dead is inscribed cn nearly all. 


UARDA. 


3 » 


“You go very far, Nebsecht, and are not foreseeing. 
‘He who needlessly hurts an innocent animal shall be 
served in the same way by the spirits of the nether¬ 
world/ says the law; but I see what you will say. You 
hold it lawful to put a beast to pain, when you can 
thereby increase that knowledge by which you alleviate 
the sufferings of man, and enrich—” 

“And do not you?” 

A gentle smile passed over Pentaur’s face; he 
leaned over the animal and said: 

“ How curious! the little beast still lives and breathes; 
a man would have long been dead under such treat¬ 
ment. His organism is perhaps of a more precious, 
subtle, and so more fragile nature?” 

Nebsecht shrugged his shoulders. 

“ Perhaps!” he said. 

“I thought you must know.” 

“I—how should I?” asked the leech. “I have told 
you—they would not even let me try to find out how 
the hand of a forger moves.” 

“ Consider, the scripture tells us the passage of the 
soul depends on the preservation of the body.” 

Nebsecht looked up with his cunning little eyes and 
shrugging his shoulders, said: 

“Then no doubt it is so: however these things do 
not concern me. Do what you like with the souls of 
men; I seek to know something of their bodies, and 
patch them when they are damaged as well as 
may be.” 

“Nay—Toth be praised,* at least you need not 
deny that you are master in that art.” 

* Toth is the god of the learned and of physicians. The Ibis was sacred 
to him, and he was usually represented as Ibis-headed. Ra created him “ a 


UARDA. 


39 


“Who is master,” asked Nebsecht, “excepting 
God? I can do nothing, nothing at all, and guide 
my instruments with hardly more certainty than a 
sculptor condemned to work in the dark.” 

“Something like the blind Resu then,” said Pentaur 
smiling, “ who understood painting better than all the 
painters who could see.” 

“In my operations there is a ‘better’ and a‘worse;’” 
said Nebsecht, “but there is nothing ‘good.’ ” 

“Then we must be satisfied with the ‘better,’ and 
I have come to claim it,” said Pentaur. 

“Are you ill?” 

“ Isis be praised, I feel so well that I could uproot 
a palm-tree, but I would ask you to visit a sick girl. 
The princess Bent-Anat—” 

“The royal family has its own physicians.” 

“Let me speak! the princess Bent-Anat has run 
over a young girl, and the poor child is seriously 
hurt.” 

“Indeed,” said the student reflectively. “Is she 
over there in the city, or here in the Necropolis?” 

“ Here. She is in fact the daughter of a para- 
schites.” 

“Of a paraschites?” exclaimed Nebsecht, once 
more slipping the rabbit under the table, “then I 
will go.” 

“You curious fellow. I believe you expect to find 
something strange among the unclean folk.” 


beautiful light to show the name of his evil enemj." Originally the Moon-god, 
he became the lord of time and measure. He is the weigher the philosopher 
amon- the gods, the lord of writing, of art and of learning. The Greeks called 
him Hermes Trismegistus, i. e. threefold or “ very great which was m fact, m 
imitation of the Egyptians, whose name Toth or lechuti signified twofold, w 
the same way “ very great.” 


40 


UARDA, 


“That is my affair; but I will go. What is the 
man’s name?” 

“ Pinem.” 

“There will be nothing to be done with him,” 
muttered the student, “however—who knows?” 

With these words he rose, and opening a tightly 
closed flask he dropped some strychnine* on the nose 
and in the mouth of the rabbit, which immediately 
ceased to breathe. Then he laid it in a box and 
said, “ I am ready.” 

“ But you cannot go out of doors in this stained 
dress.” 

The physician nodded assent, and took from a 
chest a clean robe, which he was about to throw on 
over the other; but Pentaur hindered him. “First 
take off your working dress,” he said laughing. “ I will 
help you. But, by Besa,** you have as many coats as 
an onion.” 

Pentaur was known as a mighty laugher among 
his companions, and his loud voice rung in the quiet 
room, when he discovered that his friend was about 
to put a third clean robe over two dirty ones, and 
wear no less than three dresses at once. 

Nebsecht laughed too, and said, “Now I know 
why my clothes were so heavy, and felt so intolerably 
hot at noon. While I get rid of my superfluous cloth¬ 
ing, will you go and ask the high-priest if I have leave 
to quit the temple.” 

“He commissioned me to send a leech to the 


* Strychnine was a poison well known to the Egyptians. 

** The god of the toilet of the Egyptians. He was represented as a de¬ 
formed pigmy. He led the women to conquest in love, and the men in war. 
He was probably of Arab origin. 


UARDA. 


4 * 


paraschites, and added that the girl was to be treated 
like a queen.” 

“Ameni? and did he know that we have to do 
with a paraschites ?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“Then I snail begin to believe that broken limbs 
may be set with vows—aye, vows! You know I cannot 
go alone to the sick, because my leather tongue is 
unable to recite the sentences or to wring rich offer¬ 
ings for the temple from the dying. Go, while I un¬ 
dress, to the prophet Gagabu and beg him to send the 
pastophorus Teta, who usually accompanies me.” 

“I would seek a young assistant rather than that 
blind old man.” 

“Not at all. I should be glad if he would stay at 
home, and only let his tongue creep after me like an 
eel or a slug. Head and heart have nothing to do 
with his wordy operations, and they go on like an ox 
treading out corn.”* 

“It is true,” said Pentaur; “just lately I saw the 
old man singing out his litanies by a sick-bed, and all 
the time quietly counting the dates, of which they had 
given him a whole sack-full.” 

“He will be unwilling to go to the paraschites, 
who is poor, and he would sooner seize the whole 
brood of scorpions yonder than take a piece of bread 
from the hand of the unclean. Tell him to come and 
fetch me, and drink some wine. There stands three 
days’ allowance; in this hot weather it dims my sight. 


* In Egypt, as in Palestine, beasts trod out the com, as we learn from 
many pictures in the catacombs, even in the remotest ages; often with the ad¬ 
dition of a weighted sledge, to the runners of which rollers are attached. It 
is now called noreg . 

4 


42 


UARDA. 


Does the paraschites live to the north or south of the 
Necropolis?” 

“I think to the north. Paaker, the king’s pioneer, 
will show you the way.” 

“He!” exclaimed the student, laughing. “What day 
in the calendar is this, then ?* The child of a para¬ 
schites is to be tended like a princess, and a leech 
have a noble to guide him, like the Pharaoh himself! 
I ought to have kept on my three robes!” 

“The night is warm,” said Pentaur. 

“ But Paaker has strange ways with him. Only the 
day before yesterday I was called to a poor boy whose 
collar bone he had simply smashed with his stick. If 
I had been the princess’s horse I would rather have 
trodden him down than a poor little girl.” 

“So would I,” said Pentaur laughing, and left the 
room to request the second prophet Gagabu, who was 
also the head of the medical staff of the House of 
Seti, to send the blind pastophorus** Teta, with his 
friend as singer of the litany. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Pentaur knew where to seek Gagabu, for he him¬ 
self had been invited to the banquet which the 
prophet had prepared in honor of two sages who had 


"■ Calendars have been preserved, the completest is the papyrus SallierIV., 
which has been admirably treated by F. Chabas. Many days are noted as 
lucky, unlucky, etc. In the temples many Calendars of feasts nave been found, 
the most perfect at Medinet Abu, deciphered by Diimich. 

** The Pastophori were an order of priests to which the physicians 
belonged. 


UARDA. 


43 


lately come to the House of Seti from the university 
of Chennu.* ** 

In an open court, surrounded by gaily-painted 
wooden pillars, and lighted by many lamps, sat the 
feasting priests in two long rows on comfortable arm¬ 
chairs. Before each stood a little table, and servants 
were occupied in supplying them with the dishes and 
drinks, which were laid out on a splendid table in the 
middle of the court. Joints of gazelle,roast geese 
and ducks, meat pasties, artichokes, asparagus and 
other vegetables, and various cakes and sweetmeats 
were carried to the guests, and their beakers well- 
filled with the choice wines of which there was never 
any lack in the lofts of the House of Seti.*** In the 
spaces between the guests stood servants with metal 
bowls, in which they might wash their hands, and 
towels of fine linen. 

When their hunger was appeased, the wine flowed 
more freely, and each guest was decked with sweetly- 
smelling flowers, whose odor was supposed to add to 
the vivacity of the conversation. 

Many of the sharers in this feast wore long, snow- 
white garments, and were of the class of the Initiated 
into the mysteries of the faith, as well as chiefs of the 
different orders of priests of the House of Seti. 

The second prophet, Gagabu, who was to-day 
charged with the conduct of the feast by Ameni— 

* Chennu was situated on a bend of the Nile, not far from the Nubian 
frontier; it is now called Gebel Silsileh; it was in very ancient times the seat of 
a celebrated seminary. 

** Gazelles were tamed for domestic animals- we find them in the rep¬ 
resentations of the herds of the wealthy Egyptians and as slaughtered for 
food. The banquet is described from the pictures of feasts which have been 
found in the tombs. > 

*** Cellars maintain the mean temperature of the climate, and in Egypt are 
hot. Wine is best preserved in shady and airy lofts. 


44 


UARDA. 


who on such occasions only showed himself for a few 
minutes—was a short, stout man with a bald and 
almost spherical head. His features were those of a 
man of advancing years, but well-formed, and his 
smoothly-shaven, plump cheeks were well-rounded. His 
grey eyes looked out cheerfully and observantly, but 
had a vivid sparkle when he was excited and began to 
twitch his thick, sensual mouth. 

Close by him stood the vacant, highly-ornamented 
chair of the high-priest, and next to him sat the priests 
arrived from Chennu, two tall, dark-colored old men. 
The remainder of the company was arranged in the order 
of precedency, which they held in the priests’ colleges, 
and which bore no relation to their respective ages. 

But strictly as the guests were divided with ref¬ 
erence to their rank, they mixed without distinction 
in the conversation. 

“We know how to value our call to Thebes,” said 
the elder of the stranger from Chennu, Tuauf, whose 
essays were frequently used in the schools,* “ for while, 
on one hand, it brings us into the neighborhood of 
the Pharaoh, where life, happiness, and safety flourish, 
on the other it procures us the honor of counting 
ourselves among your number; for, though the university 
of Chennu in former times was so happy as to bring 
up many great men, whom she could call her own, she 
can no longer compare with the House of Seti. Even 
. Heliopolis and Memphis are behind you; and if I, my 
humble self, nevertheless venture boldly among you, it 
is because I ascribe your success as much to the active 
influence of the Divinity in your temple, which may 
promote my acquirements and achievements, as to your 

* Some of them are still in existence. 


UARDA. 


45 


great gifts and your industry, in which I will not be 
behind you. I have already seen your high-priest 
Ameni—what a man! And who does not know thy 
name, Gagabu, or thine, Meriapu?” 

“And which of you,” asked the other new-comer, 
“may we greet as the author of the most beautiful 
hymn to Amon, which was ever sung in the land of 
the Sycamore? Which of you is Pentaur?” 

“The empty chair yonder,” answered Gagabu, point¬ 
ing to a seat at the lower end of the table, “is his. He 
is the youngest of us all, but a great future awaits him.” 

“And his songs,” added the elder of the strangers. 

“ Without doubt,” replied the chief of the haruspices,* 
an old man with a large grey curly head, that seemed 
too heavy for his thin neck, which stretched forward— 
perhaps from the habit of constantly watching for signs 
—while his prominent eyes glowed with a fanatical 
gleam. “Without doubt the Gods have granted great 
gifts to our young friend; but it remains to be proved 
how he will use them. I perceive a certain freedom of 
thought in the youth, which pains me deeply. Although 
in his poems his flexible style certainly follows the pre¬ 
scribed forms, his ideas transcend all tradition; and 
even in the hymns intended for the ears of the people 
I find turns of thought, which might well be called 
treason to the mysteries which only a few months ago 
he swore to keep secret. For instance he says—and we 
sing—and the laity hear— 

“One only art Thou, Thou Creator of beings; 

And Thou only makest all that is created. 

And again— , 


* One of the orders of priests in the Egyptian hierarchy. 


4 6 


UARDA, 


He is one only, Alone, without equal; 

Dwelling alone in the holiest of holies.”* 

Such passages as these ought not to be sung in 
public, at least in times like ours, when new ideas come 
in upon us from abroad, like the swarms of locusts 
from the East.” 

“Spoken to my very soul!” cried the treasurer of 
the temple, “ Ameni initiated this boy too early into the 
mysteries.” 

“ In my opinion, and I am his teacher,” said Gaga- 
bu, “ our brotherhood may be proud of a member who 
adds so brilliantly to the fame of our temple. The 
people hear the hymns without looking closely at the 
meaning of the words. I never saw the congregation 
more devout, than when the beautiful and deeply-felt 
song of praise was sung at the feast of the stairs.** 

“ Pentaur was always thy favorite,” said the former 
speaker. “ Thou wouldst not permit in any one else 
many things that are allowed to him. His hymns are 
nevertheless to me and to „ many others a dangerous 
performance; and canst thou dispute the fact that we 
have grounds for grave anxiety, and that things happen 
and circumstances grow up around us which hinder us, 
and at last may perhaps crush us, if we do not, while 
there is yet time, inflexibly oppose them ?” 

“ Thou bringest sand to the desert, and sugar to 
sprinkle over honey,” exclaimed Gagabu, and his lips 
began to twitch. “ Nothing is now as it ought to be, 
and there will be a hard battle to fight; not with the 
sword, but with this—and this.” And the impatient 

* Hymn to Amon preserved in a papyrus roll at Bulaq, and deciphered by 
Grehadt and L. Stern. 

** A particularly solemn festival in honor of Amon-Chem, held in the 
temple of Medinet-Abu, 


UARDA. 


47 


man touched his forehead and his lips. “And who is 
there more competent than my disciple? There is the 
champion of our cause, a second cap of Hor, that over¬ 
threw the evil one with winged sunbeams, and you 
come and would clip his wings and blunt his claws! 
Alas, alas, my lords! will you never understand that a 
lion roars louder than a cat, and the sun shines brighter 
than an oil-lamp ? Let Pentuar alone, I say; or you will 
do as the man did, who, for fear of the toothache, had 
his sound teeth drawn. Alas, alas, in the years to come 
we shall have to bite deep into the flesh, till the blood 
flows, if we wish to escape being eaten up ourselves!” 

“The enemy is not unknown to us also,” said the 
elder priest from Chennu, “although we, on the remote 
southern frontier of the kingdom, have escaped many 
evils that in the north have eaten into our body like a 
cancer. Here foreigners are now hardly looked upon 
at all as unclean and devilish.”* 

“Hardly?” exclaimed the chief of the haruspices; 
“they are invited, caressed, and honored. Like dust, 
when the simoon blows through the chinks of a wooden 
house, they crowd into the houses and temples, taint 
our manners and language;** nay, on the throne of the 
successors of Ra sits a descendant—” 

“Presumptuous man!” cried the voice of the high- 
priest, who at this instant entered the hall, “Hold your 
tongue, and be not so bold as to wag it against him 
who is our king, and wields the sceptre in this kingdom 
as the Vicar of Ra.” 

The speaker bowed and was silent, then he and all 
the company rose to greet Ameni, who bowed to them 

* “ Typhonisch,” belonging to Typhon or Seth.— Translator. 

** At no period did Egyptian writers use more Semitic words than during 
the reigns of Rameses II. and nis son Mernephtah. 


4 $ 


UARDA. 


all with polite dignity, took his seat, and turning to 
Gagabu asked him carelessly: 

“ I find you all in most unpriestly excitement; what 
has disturbed your equanimity ?” 

“ We were discussing the overwhelming influx of 
foreigners into Egypt, and the necessity of opposing 
some resistance to them.” 

“You will find me one of the foremost in the at¬ 
tempt,” replied Ameni. “We have endured much al¬ 
ready, and news has arrived from the north, which 
grieves me deeply.” 

“Have our troops sustained a defeat?” 

“They continue to be victorious, but thousands of 
our countrymen have fallen victims in the fight or on 
the march. Rameses demands fresh reinforcements. 
The pioneer, Paaker, has brought me a letter from our 
brethren who accompany the king, and delivered a 
document from him to the Regent, which contains the 
order to send to him fifty thousand fighting men; and 
as the whole of the soldier-caste and all the auxiliaries 
are already under arms, the bondmen of the temple, 
who till our acres, are to be levied, and sent into 
Asia.” 

A murmur of disapproval arose at these words. The 
chief of the haruspices stamped his foot, and Gagabu 
asked: 

“What do you mean to do?” 

“To prepare to obey the commands of the king,” 
answered Ameni, “ and to call the heads of the temples 
of the city of Amon here without delay to hold a coun¬ 
cil. Each must first in his holy of holies seek good 
counsel of the Celestials. When we have come to a 


UARDA. 


49 


conclusion, we must next win the Viceroy over to our 
side. Who yesterday assisted at his prayers ?” 

“It was my turn,” said the chief of the haruspices. 

“Follow me to my abode, when the meal is over.” 
commanded Ameni. “ But why is our poet missing from 
our circle?” 

At this moment Pentaur came into the hall, and 
while he bowed easily and with dignity to the company 
and low before Ameni, he prayed him to grant that the 
pastophorus Teta should accompany the leech Nebsecht 
to visit the daughter of the paraschites. 

Ameni nodded consent and exclaimed: “They must 
make haste. Paaker waits for them at the great gate, 
and will accompany them in my chariot.” 

As soon as Pentaur had left the party of feasters, 
the old priest from Chennu exclaimed, as he turned to 
Ameni: 

“ Indeed, holy father, just such a one and no other 
had I pictured your poet. He is like the Sun-god, and 
his demeanor is that of a prince. He is no doubt of 
noble birth.” 

“ His father is a homely gardener,” said the high- 
priest, “who indeed tills the land apportioned to him 
with industry and prudence, but is of humble birth and 
rough exterior. He sent Pentaur to the school* at an early 
age, and we have brought up the wonderfully gifted boy 
to be what he now is.” 

“What office does he fill here in the temple?” 

“ He instructs the elder pupils of the high-school in 
grammar and eloquence; he is also an excellent ob- 

* It is certain from the papyri that people of the lower orders could be 
received into the priesthood. Separate castes like those of the Hindoos were 
unknown to the Egyptians. 


5 ° 


UARDA. 


server of the starry heavens, and a most skilled inter¬ 
preter of dreams,” replied Gagabu. “But here he is 
again. To whom is Paaker conducting our stammering 
physician and his assistant?” 

“To the daughter of the paraschites, who has been 
run over,” answered Pentaur. “ But what a rough fellow 
this pioneer is. His voice hurts my ears, and he spoke 
to our leeches as if they had been his slaves.” 

“ He was vexed with the commission the princess 
had devolved on him,” said the high-priest benevolent¬ 
ly, “ and his unamiable disposition is hardly mitigated 
by his real piety.” 

“And yet,” said an old priest, “his brother, who left 
us some years ago, and who had chosen me for his 
guide and teacher, was a particularly loveable and docile 
youth.” 

“And his father,” said Ameni. “was one of the 
most superior, energetic, and withal subtle-minded of 
men.” 

“ Then he has derived his bad peculiarities from 
his mother?” 

“ By no means. She is a timid, amiable, soft-hearted 
woman.” 

“But must the child always resemble its parents?” 
asked Pentaur. “Among the sons of the sacred bull, 
sometimes not one bears the distinguishing mark of his 
father.” 

“And if Paaker’s father were indeed an Apis,” said 
Gagabu laughing, “according to your view the pioneer 
himself belongs, alas! to the peasant’s stable.” 

Pentaur did not contradict him, but said with a 
smile: 

“Since he left the school bench, where his school- 


UARDA. 


5 1 

fellows called him the wild ass on account of his un¬ 
ruliness, he has remained always the same. He was 
stronger than most of them, and yet they knew no 
greater pleasure than putting him in a rage.” 

“Children are so cruel!” said Ameni. “They judge 
only by appearances, and never enquire into the causes 
of them. The deficient are as guilty in their eyes as 
the idle, and Paaker could put forward small claims to 
their indulgence. I encourage freedom and merriment,” 
he continued turning to the priests from Chennu, “among 
our disciples, for in fettering the fresh enjoyment of 
youth we lame our best assistant. The excrescences 
on the natural growth of boys cannot be more surely or 
painlessly extirpated than in their wild games. The 
school-boy is the school-boy’s best tutor.” 

“But Paaker,” said the priest Meriapu, “was not 
improved by the provocations of his companions. Con¬ 
stant contests with them increased that roughness which 
now makes him the terror of his subordinates and alie¬ 
nates all affection.” 

“He is the most unhappy of all the many youths, 
who were intrusted to my care,” said Ameni, “ and I 
believe I know why,—he never had a childlike disposi¬ 
tion, even when in years he was still a child, and the 
Gods had denied him the heavenly gift of good humor. 
Youth should be modest, and he was assertive from 
his childhood. He took the sport of his companions 
for earnest, and his father, who was unwise only 
as a tutor, encouraged him to resistance instead of 
to forbearance, in the idea that he thus would be steeled 
to the hard life of a Mohar.”* 

* The severe duties of the Mohar are well known from the papyrus of 
Anastasi I. in the Brit. Mus., whichj has been ably treated by F. Chabas, 
Voyage d’un Egyptien. 


52 


UARDA. 


“I have often heard the deeds of the Mohar spoken 
of,” said the old priest from Chennu, “yet I do not ex¬ 
actly know what his office requires of him.” 

“ He has to wander among the ignorant and insolent 
people of hostile provinces, and to inform himself of 
the kind and number of the population, to investigate 
the direction of the mountains, valleys, and rivers, to 
set forth his observations, and to deliver them to the 
house of war,* so that the march of the troops may be 
guided by them.” 

“The Mohar then must be equally skilled as a warrior 
and as a Scribe.” 

“As thou sayest; and Paaker’s father was not a hero 
only, but at the same time a writer, whose close and 
clear information depicted the country through which 
he had travelled as plainly as if it were seen from a 
mountain height. He was the first who took the title 
of Mohar. The king held him in such high esteem, 
that he was inferior to no one but the king himself, and 
the minister of the house of war.” 

“Was he of noble race?” 

“ Of one of the oldest and noblest in the country. 
His father was the noble warrior Assa,” answered the 
haruspex, “ and he therefore, after he himself had at¬ 
tained the highest consideration and vast wealth, es¬ 
corted home the niece of the King Hor-em-heb, who 
would have had a claim to the throne, as well as the 
Regent, if the grandfather of the present Rameses had 
not seized it from the old family by violence.” 

“ Be careful of your words,” said Ameni, interrupting 
the rash old man. “Rameses I. was and is the grand- 

* Corresponding to our minister of war. A person of the highest im* 
portance even in the earliest times. 


UARDA. 


53 


father of our sovereign, and in the king’s veins, from his 
mother’s side, flows the blood of the legitimate descen¬ 
dants of the Sun-god.” 

“ But fuller and purer in those of the Regent,” the 
haruspex ventured to retort. 

“ But Rameses wears the crown,” cried Ameni,“ and 
will continue to wear it so long as it pleases the Gods. 
Reflect!—your hairs are grey, and seditious words are like 
sparks, which are borne by the wind, but which, if they 
fall, may set our home in a blaze. Continue your 
feasting, my lords; but I would request you to speak 
no more this evening of the king and his new decree. 
You, Pentaur, fulfil my orders to-morrow morning with 
energy and prudence.” 

The high-priest bowed and left the feast. 

As soon as the door was shut behind him, the old 
priest from Chennu spoke. 

“ What we have learned concerning the pioneer of 
the king, a man who holds so high an office, surprises 
me. Does he distinguish himself by a special acute¬ 
ness ?” 

“ He was a steady learner, but of moderate ability.” 

“ Is the rank of Mohar then as high as that of a 
prince of the empire ?” 

“ By no means.” 

“ How then is it—?” 

“ It is, as it is,” interrupted Gagabu. “ The son of 
the vine-dresser has his mouth full of grapes, and the 
child of the door-keeper opens the lock with words.” 

“ Never mind,” said an old priest who had hitherto 
kept silence. “ Paaker earned for himself the post of 
Mohar, and possesses many praiseworthy qualities. He 
is indefatigable and faithful, quails before no danger, 


54 


UARDA. 


and has always been earnestly devout from his boy¬ 
hood. When the other scholars carried their pocket- 
money to the fruit-sellers and confectioners at the 
temple-gates, he would buy geese, and, when his 
mother sent him a handsome sum, young gazelles, to 
offer to the Gods on the altars. No noble in the land 
owns a greater treasure of charms and images of the 
Gods than he. To the present time he is the most 
pious of men, and the offerings for the dead, which he 
brings in the name of his late father, may be said to 
be positively kingly.” 

“We owe him gratitude for these gifts,” said the 
treasurer, “ and the high honor he pays his father, 
even after his death, is exceptional and far-famed.” 

“ He emulates him in every respect,” sneered 
Gagabu; “ and though he does not resemble him in 
any feature, grows more and more like him. But un¬ 
fortunately, it is as the goose resembles the swan, or the 
owl resembles the eagle. For his father’s noble pride 
he has overbearing haughtiness; for kindly severity, 
rude harshness; for dignity, conceit; for perseverance, 
obstinacy. Devout he is, and we profit by his gifts. 
The treasurer may rejoice over them, and the dates 
off a crooked tree taste as well as those off a straight 
one. But if I were the Divinity I should prize them 
no higher than a hoopoe’s crest; for He, who sees into 
the heart of the giver—alas! what does he see! Storms 
and darkness are of the dominion of Seth, and in 
there—in there—” and the old man struck his broad 
breast—“ all is wrath and tumult, and there is not a 
gleam of the calm blue heaven of Ra, that shines soft 
and pure in the soul of the pious; no, not a spot as 
large as this wheaten-cake.” 


UARDA. 55 

41 Hast thou then sounded to the depths of his 
Soul ?” asked the haruspex. 

“ As this beaker!” exclaimed Gagabu, and he 
touched the rim of an empty drinking-vessel. “ For 
fifteen years without ceasing. The man has been of 
service to us, is so still, and will continue to be. Our 
leeches extract salves from bitter gall and deadly 
poisons; and folks like these—” 

“ Hatred speaks in thee,” said the haruspex, inter¬ 
rupting the indignant old man. 

“ Hatred!” he retorted, and his lips quivered. 
“ Hatred ?” and he struck his breast with his clenched 
hand. “ It is true, it is no stranger to this old 
heart. But open thine ears, O haruspex, and all 
you others too shall hear. I recognize two sorts of 
hatred. The one is between man and man; that I 
have gagged, smothered, killed, annihilated—with what 
efforts, the Gods know. In past years I have cer¬ 
tainly tasted its bitterness, and served it like a wasp, 
which, though it knows that in stinging it must die, 
yet uses its sting. But now I am old in years, that is 
in knowledge, and I know that of all the powerful im¬ 
pulses which stir our hearts, one only comes solely 
from Seth, one only belongs wholly to the Evil one— 
and that is hatred between man and man. Covetous¬ 
ness may lead to industry, sensual appetites may beget 
noble fruit, but hatred is a devastator, and in the soul 
that it occupies all that is noble grows not upwards 
and towards the light, but downwards to the earth 
and to darkness. Everything may be forgiven by the 
Gods, save only hatred between man and man. But 
there is another sort of hatred that is pleasing to the 
Gods, and which you must cherish if you would not 


UARDA. 


56 

miss their presence in your souls ; that is, hatred for all 
that hinders the growth of light and goodness and 
purity—the hatred of Horus for Seth. The Gods 
would punish me if I hated Paaker whose father was 
dear to m'e; but the spirits of darkness would possess 
the old heart in my breast if it were devoid of horror 
for the covetous and sordid devotee, who would fain 
buy earthly joys of the Gods with gifts of beasts and 
wine, as men exchange an ass for a robe, in whose 
soul seethe dark promptings. Paaker’s gifts can no 
more be pleasing to the Celestials than a cask of attar 
of roses would please thee, haruspex, in which scorpions, 
centipedes, and venomous snakes were swimming. I have 
long led this man’s prayers, and never have I heard 
him crave for noble gifts, but a thousand times for the 
injury of the men he hates.” 

“ In the holiest prayers that come down to us from 
the past,” said the haruspex, “ the Gods are entreated 
to throw our enemies under our feet; and, besides, 
I have often heard Paaker pray fervently for the bliss 
of his parents.” 

“ You are a priest and one of the initiated,” cried 
Gagabu, “ and you know not—or will not seem to 
know—that by the enemies for whose overthrow we 
pray, are meant only the demons of darkness and the 
outlandish peoples by whom Egypt is endangered! 
Paaker prayed for his parents ? Ay, and so will he for 
his children, for they will be his future as his fore¬ 
fathers are his past. If he had a wife, his offerings 
would be for her too, for she would be the half of his 
own present.” 

“ In spite of all this,” said the haruspex Septah, 
" you are too hard in your judgment of Paaker, for 


UARDA. 


57 


although he was born under a lucky sign, the Hathors 
denied him all that makes youth happy. The enemy 
for whose destruction he prays is Mena, the king’s char¬ 
ioteer, and, indeed, he must have been of superhuman 
magnanimity or of unmanly feebleness, if he could have 
wished well to the man who robbed him of the beauti¬ 
ful wife who was destined for him.” 

“How could that happen?” asked the priest from 
Chennu. “A betrothal is sacred.”* 

“Paaker,” replied Septah, “was attached with all the 
strength of his ungoverned but passionate and faithful 
heart to his cousin Nefert, the sweetest maid in Thebes, 
the daughter of Katuti, his mother’s sister; and she was 
promised to him to wife. Then his father, whom he 
accompanied on his marches, was mortally wounded in 
Syria. The king stood by his death-bed, and granting 
his last request, invested his son with his rank and office. 
Paaker brought the mummy of his father home to Thebes, 
gave him princely interment, and then before the time of 
mourning was over, hastened back to Syria, where, while 
the king returned to Egypt, it was his duty to recon¬ 
noitre the new possessions. At last he could quit the 
scene of war with the hope of marrying Nefert. He 
rode his horse to death the sooner to reach the goal of 
his desires; but when he reached Tanis, the city of 
Rameses, the news met him that his affianced cousin had 
been given to another, the handsomest and bravest man 
in Thebes—the noble Mena. The more precious a thing 
is that we hope to possess, the more we are justified 
in complaining of him who contests our claim, and can 

* In the demotic papyrus preserved at Bulaq (novel by Setnau) first treated 
by H. Brugsch. the following words occur: “ Is it not the law, which unites one 
to another?” Betrothed brides are mentioned, for instance on the sarcophagus 
of Unnefer at Bulaq. 

5 


58 UARDA. 

win it from us. Paaker’s blood must have been as cold 
as a frog’s if he could have forgiven Mena instead of 
hating him, and the cattle he has offered to the Gods to 
bring down their wrath on the head of the traitor may 
be counted by hundreds.” 

“And if you accept them, knowing why they are 
offered, you do unwisely and wrongly,” exclaimed 
Gagabu. “ If I were a layman, I would take good care 
not to worship a Divinity who condescends to serve 
the foulest human ends for a reward. But the omni¬ 
scient Spirit, that rules the world in accordance with 
eternal laws, knows nothing of these sacrifices, which 
only tickle the nostrils of the evil one. The treasurer 
rejoices when a beautiful spotless heifer is driven in 
among our herds. But Seth rubs his red hands* with 
delight that he accepts it. My friends, I have heard 
the vows which Paaker has poured out over our pure 
altars, like hogwash that men set before swine. Pesti¬ 
lence and boils has he called down on Mena, and bar¬ 
renness and heartache on the poor sweet woman; and I 
really cannot blame her for preferring a battle-horse 
to a hippopotamus—a Mena to a Paaker.” 

“Yet the Immortals must have thought his remon¬ 
strances less unjustifiable, and have stricter views as to 
the inviolable nature of a betrothal than you,” said the 
treasurer, “for Nefert, during four years of married life, 
has passed only a few weeks with her wandering husband, 
and remains childless. It is hard to me to understand 
how you, Gagabu, who so often absolve where we con¬ 
demn, can so relentlessly judge so great a benefactor to 
our temple.” 

* Red was the color of Seth and Typhon. The evil one is named the Red, 
as for instance in the papyrus of Ebers. Red-haired men were typhonic. 


UARDA. 


59 


“And I fail to comprehend/’ exclaimed the old man, 
“how you—you who so willingly condemn, can so 
weakly excuse this—this—call him what you will.” 

“ He is indispensable to us at this time,” said the 
haruspex. 

“Granted,” said Gagabu, lowering his tone. “And 
I think still to make use of him, as the high-priest has 
done in past years with the best effect when dangers 
have threatened us; and a dirty road serves when it 
makes for the goal. The Gods themselves often permit 
safety to come from what is evil, but shall we therefore 
call evil good—or say the hideous is beautiful ? Make 
use of the king’s pioneer as you will, but do not, be¬ 
cause you are indebted to him for gifts, neglect to judge 
him according to his imaginings and deeds if you would 
deserve your title of the Initiated and the Enlightened. 
Let him bring his cattle into our temple and pour his 
gold into our treasury, but do not defile your souls with 
the thought that the offerings of such a heart and such a 
hand are pleasing to the Divinity. Above all,” and the 
voice of the old man had a heart-felt impressiveness, 
“ Above all, do not flatter the erring man—and this is 
what you do—with the idea that he is walking in the 
right way; for your, for our first duty, O my friends, is 
always this—to guide the souls of those who trust in 
us to goodness and truth.” 

“Oh, my master!” cried Pentaur, “how tender is 
thy severity.” 

“ I have shown the hideous sores of this man’s soul,” 
said the old man, as he rose to quit the hall. “Your 
praise will aggravate them, your blame will tend to 
heal them. Nay, if you are not content to do your 
duty, old Gagabu will come some day with his knife, 


6o 


UARDA. 


and will throw the sick man down and cut out the 
canker.” 

During this speech the haruspex had frequently 
shrugged his shoulders. Now he said, turning to the 
priests from Chennu— 

“ Gagabu is a foolish, hot-headed old man, and you 
have heard from his lips just such a sermon as the 
young scribes keep by them when they enter on the 
duties of the care of souls. His sentiments are ex¬ 
cellent, but he easily overlooks small things for the 
sake of great ones. Ameni would tell you that ten 
souls, no, nor a hundred, do not matter when the safety 
of the whole is in question.” 


CHAPTER V. 

The night during which the Princess Bent-Anat 
and her followers had knocked at the gate of the 
House of Seti was past. 

The fruitful freshness of the dawn gave way to 
the heat, which began to pour down from the deep 
blue cloudless vault of heaven. The eye could no 
longer gaze at the mighty globe of light whose rays 
pierced the fine white dust which hung over the 
declivity of the hills that enclosed the city of the 
dead on the west. The limestone rocks showed with 
blinding clearness, the atmosphere quivered as if heated 
over a flame; each minute the shadows grew shorter 
and their outlines sharper. 

All the beasts which we saw peopling the Necro¬ 
polis in the evening had now withdrawn into their 
lurking places; only man defied the heat of the summer 


t 


UARDA. 


6l 

day. Undisturbed he accomplished his daily work, and 
only laid his tools aside for a moment, with a sigh, when 
a cooling breath blew across the overflowing stream and 
fanned his brow. 

The harbor or dock where those landed who had 
crossed from eastern Thebes was crowded with gay 
barks and boats waiting to return. 

The crews of rowers and steersmen who were at¬ 
tached to priestly brotherhoods or noble houses, were 
enjoying a rest till the parties they had brought across 
the Nile drew towards them again in long processions. 

Under a wide-spreading sycamore a vendor of 
eatables, spirituous drinks, and acids for cooling the 
water, had set up his stall, and close to him, a crowd 
of boatmen and drivers shouted and disputed as they 
passed the time in eager games at morra. # 

Many sailors lay on the decks of the vessels, others 
on the shore; here in the thin shade of a palm tree, 
there in the full blaze of the sun, from those burning 
rays they protected themselves by spreading the cotton 
cloths, which served them for cloaks, over their faces. 

Between the sleepers passed bondmen and slaves, 
brown and black, in long files one behind the other, 
bending under the weight of heavy burdens, which 
had to be conveyed to their destination at the temples 
for sacrifice, or to the dealers in various wares. Builders 
dragged blocks of stone, which had come from the 
quarries of Chennu and Suan,* ** on sledges to the site 
of a new temple; laborers poured water under the run- 


* In Latin “ micare digitis.” A game still constantly played in the south 
of Europe, and frequently represented by the Egyptians. The games depicted 
in the monuments are collected by Minutoli, in the Leipziger Illustrirte Zeitung, 
1852. 

** The Syene of the Greeks, now called Assouan at the first cataract. 


62 


UARDA. 


ners, that the heavily loaded and dried wood should 
not take fire. 

All these working men were driven with sticks by 
their, overseers, and sang at their labor; but the 
voices of the leaders sounded muffled and hoarse, 
though, when after their frugal meal they enjoyed an 
hour of repose, they might be heard loud enough. 
Their parched throats refused to sing in the noontide 
of their labor. 

Thick clouds of gnats followed these tormented 
gangs, who with dull and spirit-broken endurance suf¬ 
fered alike the stings of the insects and the blows of 
their driver. The gnats pursued them to the very heart 
of the City of the Dead, where they joined themselves 
to the flies and wasps, which swarmed in countless 
crowds around the slaughter houses, cooks’ shops, stalls 
of fried fish, and booths of meat, vegetable, honey, 
cakes and drinks, which were doing a brisk business 
in spite of the noontide heat and the oppressive at¬ 
mosphere heated and filled with a mixture of odors. 

The nearer one got to the Libyan frontier, the 
quieter it became, and the silence of death reigned in 
the broad north-west valley, where in the southern 
slope the father of the reigning king had caused his 
tomb to be hewn, and where the stone-mason of the 
Pharaoh had prepared a rock tomb for him. 

A newly made road led into this rocky gorge, 
whose steep yellow and brown walls seemed scorched 
by the sun in many blackened spots, and looked like 
a ghostly array of shades that had risen from the 
tombs in the night and remained there. 

At the entrance of this valley some blocks of stone 
formed a sort of doorway, and through this, indifferent 


UARDA. 63 

to the heat of the day, a small but brilliant troop of 
men was passing. 

Four slender youths as staff-bearers led the pro¬ 
cession, each clothed only with an apron and a flowing 
head-cloth of gold brocade; the mid-day sun played on 
their smooth, moist, red-brown skins, and their supple 
naked feet hardly stirred the stones on the road. 

Behind them followed an elegant, two-wheeled 
chariot, with two prancing brown horses bearing tufts 
of red and blue feathers on their noble heads, and 
seeming by the bearing of their arched necks and 
flowing tails to express their pride in the gorgeous hous¬ 
ings, richly embroidered in silver, purple, and blue and 
golden ornaments, which they wore—and even more 
in their beautiful, royal charioteer, Bent-Anat, the daugh¬ 
ter of Rameses, at whose lightest word they pricked 
their ears, and whose little hand guided them with a 
scarcely perceptible touch. 

Two young men dressed like the other runners fol¬ 
lowed the chariot, and kept the rays of the sun off the 
face of their mistress with large fans of snow-white 
ostrich feathers fastened to long wands. 

By the side of Bent-Anat, so long as the road was 
wide enough to allow of it, was carried Nefert, the wife 
of Mena, in her gilt litter, borne by eight tawny bearers, 
who, running with a swift and equally measured step, 
did not remain far behind the trotting horses of the 
princess and her fan-bearers. 

Both the women, whom we now see for the first 
time in daylight, were of remarkable but altogether 
different beauty. 

The wife of Mena had preserved the appearance 
of a maiden; her large almond-shaped eyes had a 


64 


UARDA. 


dreamy surprised look out from under her long eye¬ 
lashes, and her figure of hardly the middle-height had 
acquired a little stoutness without losing its youthful 
grace. No drop of foreign blood flowed in her veins, 
as could be seen in the color of her skin, which was 
of that fresh and equal hue which holds a medium 
between golden yellow and bronze brown—and which 
to this day is so charming in the maidens of Abys¬ 
sinia—in her straight nose, her well-formed brow, in 
her smooth but thick black hair, and in the fineness of 
her hands and feet, which were ornamented with circles 
of gold. 

/The maiden princess next to her had hardly 
reached her nineteenth year, and yet something of a 
womanly self-consciousness betrayed itself in her de 
meanor. Her stature was by almost a head taller 
than that of her friend, her skin was fairer, her blue 
eyes kind and frank, without tricks of glance, but clear 
and honest, her profile was noble but sharply cut, and 
resembled that of her father, as a landscape in the 
mild and softening light of the moon resembles the 
same landscape in the broad clear light of day. The 
scarcely perceptible aquiline of her nose, she inherited 
from her Semitic ancestors,* as well as the slightly 
waving abundance of her brown hair, over which she 
wore a blue and white striped silk kerchief; its care¬ 
fully-pleated folds were held in place by a gold ring, 
from which in front a horned uraeus ** raised its head 


* Many portraits have come down to us of Rameses; the finest is the noble 
statue preserved at Turin. A likeness has been detected between its profile, 
with its slightly aquiline nose, and that of Napoleon I. 

** A venomous Egyptian serpent which was adopted as the symbol of 
sovereign power, in consequence of its swift effects for life or death. It is never 
wanting to the diadem of the Pharaohs. 


UARDA. 


6 5 


crowned with a disk of rubies. From her left temple 
a large tress, plaited with gold thread, hung down to 
her waist, the sign of her royal birth. She wore a 
purple dress of fine, almost transparent stuff, that was 
confined with a gold belt and straps. Round her 
throat was fastened a necklace like a collar, made of 
pearls and costly stones, and hanging low down on her 
well-formed bosom. 

Behind the princess stood her charioteer, an old 
officer of noble birth. 

Three litters followed the chariot of the princess, and 
in each sat two officers of the court; then came a dozen 
of slaves ready for any service, and lastly a crowd 
of wand-bearers to drive off the idle populace, and of 
lightly-armed soldiers, who—dressed only in the apron 
and head-cloth—each bore a dagger-shaped sword in 
his girdle, an axe in his right hand, and in his left, in 
token of his peaceful service, a palm-branch. 

Like dolphins round a ship, little girls in long shirt¬ 
shaped garments swarmed round the whole length of 
the advancing procession, bearing water-jars on their 
steady heads, and at a sign from any one who was 
thirsty were ready to give him a drink. With steps 
as light as the gazelle they often outran the horses, 
and nothing could be more graceful than the action 
with which the taller ones bent over with the water- 
jars held in both arms to the drinker. 

The courtiers, cooled and shaded by waving fans, 
and hardly perceiving the noontide heat, conversed at 
their ease about indifferent matters, and the princess 
pitied the poor horses, who were tormented as they 
ran, by annoying gadflies; while the runners and 
soldiers, the litter-bearers and fan-bearers, the girls 


/ 


/ 


66 


UARDA. 


with their jars and the panting slaves, were compelled 
to exert themselves under the rays of the mid-day 
sun in the service of their masters, till their sinews 
threatened to crack and their lungs to burst their 
bodies. 

At a spot where the road widened, and where, to 
the right, lay the steep cross-valley where the last kings 
of the dethroned race were interred, the procession 
stopped at a sign from Paaker, who preceded the 
princess, and who drove his fiery black Syrian horses 
with so heavy a hand that the bloody foam fell from 
their bits. 

When the Mohar had given the reins into the hand 
of a servant, he sprang from his chariot, and after the 
usual form of obeisance said to the princess: 

“ In this valley lies the loathsome den of the people, 
to whom thou, O princess, dost deign to do such high 
honor. Permit me to go forward as guide to thy 
party.” 

“We will go on foot,” said the princess, “and leave 
our followers behind here,” 

Paaker bowed, Bent-Anat threw the reins to her 
charioteer and sprang to the ground, the wife of Mena 
and the courtiers left their litters, and the fan-bearers 
and chamberlains were about to accompany their mis¬ 
tress on foot into the little valley, when she turned 
round and ordered, “ Remain behind, all of you. Only 
Paaker and Nefert need go with me.” 

The princess hastened forward into the gorge, which 
was oppressive with the noon-tide heat; but she mod¬ 
erated her steps as soon as she observed that the 
frailer Nefert found it difficult to follow her. 


UARDA. 


67 


At a bend in the road Paaker stood still, and with 
him Bent-Anat and Nefert. Neither of them had spoken 
a word during their walk. The valley was perfectly still 
and deserted; on the highest pinnacles of the cliff, 
which rose perpendicularly to the right, sat a long row 
of vultures, as motionless as if the mid-day heat had 
taken all strength out of their wings. 

Paaker bowed before them as being the sacred 
animals of the Great Goddess of Thebes,* and the two 
women silently followed his example. 

“ There,” said the Mohar, pointing to two huts close 
to the left cliff of the valley, built of bricks made of 
dried Nile-mud, “ there, the neatest, next the cave in 
the rock.” 

Bent-Anat went towards the solitary hovel with a 
beating heart; Paaker let the ladies go first. A few 
steps brought them to an ill-constructed fence of cane- 
stalks, palm-branches, briars and straw, roughly thrown 
together. A heart-rending cry of pain from within the 
hut trembled in the air and arrested the steps of the 
two women. Nefert staggered and clung to her stronger 
companion, whose beating heart she seemed to hear. 
Both stood a few minutes as if spellbound, then the 
princess called Paaker, and said: 

“ You go first into the house.” 

Paaker bowed to the ground. 

“ I will call the man out,” he said, “ but how dare 
we step over his threshold. Thou knowest such a 
proceeding will defile us.” 


% 


* She formed a triad with Amon and Chunsu under the name of Muth. 
The great “ Sanctuary of the kingdom ”—the temple of Kamak—was dedicated 
to them. 


68 


UARDA. 


Nefert looked pleadingly at Bent-Anat, but the prin¬ 
cess repeated her command. 

“Go before me; I have no fear of defilement.” 

The Mohar still hesitated. 

“Wilt thou provoke the Gods?—and defile thyself?” 

But the princess let him say no more; she signed 
to Nefert, who raised her hands in horror and aversion; 
so, with a shrug of her shoulders, she left her com¬ 
panion behind with the Mohar, and stepped through an 
opening in the hedge into a little court, where lay two 
brown goats; a donkey with his forelegs tied together 
stood by, and a few hens were scattering the dust about 
in a vain search for food. 

Soon she stood, alone, before the door of the 
paraschites’ hovel. No one perceived her, but she could 
not take her eyes—accustomed only to scenes of order 
and splendor—from the gloomy but wonderfully 
strange picture, which riveted her attention and her 
sympathy. At last she went up to the doorway, which 
was too low for her tall figure. Her heart shrunk 
painfully within her, and she would have wished to 
grow smaller, and, instead of shining in splendor, to 
have found herself wrapped in a beggar’s robe. 

Could she step into this hovel decked with gold 
and jewels as if in mockery ?—like a tyrant who should 
feast at a groaning table and compel the starving to 
look on at the banquet. Her delicate perception made 
her feel what trenchant discord her appearance offered 
to all that surrounded her, and the discord pained her; 
for she could not conceal from herself that misery 
and external meanness were here entitled to give the 
key-note and that her magnificence derived no especial 
grandeur from contrast with all these modest acces- 


UARDA. 


69 


sories, amid dust, gloom, and suffering, but rather be¬ 
came disproportionate and hideous, like a giant among 
pigmies. 

She had already gone too far to turn back, or she 
would willingly have done so. The longer she gazed 
into the hut, the more deeply she felt the impotence of 
her princely power, the nothingness of the splendid 
gifts with which she approached it, and that she 
might not tread the dusty floor of this wretched hovel 
but in all humility, and to crave a pardon. 

The room into which she looked was low but not 
very small, and obtained from two cross lights a 
strange and unequal illumination; on one side the light 
came through the door, and on the other through an 
opening in the time-worn ceiling of the room, which had 
never before harbored so many and such different 
guests. 

All attention was concentrated on a group, which 
was clearly lighted up from the doorway. 

On the dusty floor of the room cowered an old 
woman, with dark weather-beaten features and tangled 
hair that had long been grey. Her black-blue cotton 
shirt was open over her withered bosom, and showed a 
blue star tattooed upon it. 

In her lap she supported with her hands the head 
of a girl, whose slender body lay motionless on a nar¬ 
row, ragged mat. The little white feet of the sick girl 
almost touched the threshold. Near to them squatted 
a benevolent-looking old man, who wore only a coarse 
apron, and sitting all in a heap, bent forward now and 
then, rubbing the child’s feet with his lean hands and 
muttering a few words to himself. 

The sufferer wore nothing but a short petticoat of 


7 ° 


UARDA. 


coarse light-blue stuff. Her face, half resting on the 
lap of the old woman, was graceful and regular in 
form, her eyes were half shut—like those of a child, 
whose soul is wrapped in some sweet dream—but 
from her finely chiselled lips there escaped from time 
to time a painful, almost convulsive sob. 

An abundance of soft, but disordered reddish fair 
hair, in which clung a few withered flowers, fell over 
the lap of the old woman and on to the mat where 
she lay. Her cheeks were white and rosy-red, and 
when the young surgeon Nebsecht—who sat by her 
side, near his blind, stupid companion, the litany- 
singer—lifted the ragged cloth that had been thrown 
over her bosom, which had been crushed by the 
chariot wheel, or when she lifted her slender arm, it 
was seen that she had the shining fairness of those 
daughters of the north who not unfrequently came to 
Thebes among the king’s prisoners of war. 

The two physicians sent hither from the House of 
Seti sat on the left side of the maiden on a little 
carpet. From time to time one or the other laid his 
hand over the heart of the sufferer, or listened to her 
breathing, or opened his case of medicaments, and 
moistened the compress on her wounded breast with 
a white ointment. 

In a wide circle close to the wall of the room 
crouched several women, young and old, friends of 
the paraschites, who from time to time gave expression 
to their deep sympathy by a piercing cry of lamentation. 
One of them rose at regular intervals to fill the earthen 
bowl by the side of the physician with fresh water. 
As often as the sudden coolness of a fresh compress on 
her hot bosom startled the sick girl, she opened her 


UARDA. 


71 


eyes, but always soon to close them again for a longer 
interval, and turned them at first in surprise, and then 
with gentle reverence, towards a particular spot. 

These glances had hitherto been unobserved by 
him to whom they were directed. 

Leaning against the wall on the right hand side of 
the room, dressed in his long, snow-white priest’s robe, 
Pentaur stood awaiting the princess. His head-dress 
touched the ceiling, and the narrow streak of light, 
which fell through the opening in the roof, streamed 
on his handsome head and his breast, while all around 
him was veiled in twilight gloom. 

Once more the suffering girl looked up, and her 
glance this time met the eye of the young priest, who 
immediately raised his hand, and half-mechanically, in 
a low voice, uttered the words of blessing; and then 
once more fixed his gaze on the dingy floor, and 
pursued his own reflections. 

Some hours since he had come hither, obedient to 
the orders of Ameni, to impress on the princess that 
she had defiled herself by touching a paraschites, and 
could only be cleansed again by the hand of the 
priests. 

He had crossed the threshold of the paraschites 
most reluctantly, and the thought that he, of all men, 
had been selected to censure a deed of the noblest 
humanity, and to bring her who had done it to judg¬ 
ment, weighed upon him as a calamity. 

In his intercourse with his friend Nebsecht, Pentaui 
had thrown off many fetters, and given place to many 
thoughts that his master would have held sinful and 
presumptuous; but at the same time he acknowledged 
the sanctity of the old institutions, which were upheld 


7 2 


UARDA. 


by those whom he had learned to regard as the divinely- 
appointed guardians of the spiritual possessions of God’s 
people; nor was he wholly free from the pride of caste 
and the haughtiness which, with prudent intent, were 
inculcated in the priests. He held the common man, 
who put forth his strength to win a maintenance for 
his belongings by honest bodily labor—the merchant— 
the artizan—the peasant, nay even the warrior, as far 
beneath the godly brotherhood who strove for only 
spiritual ends; and most of all he scorned the idler, 
given up to sensual enjoyments. 

He held him unclean who had been branded by 
the law; and how should it have been otherwise ? 

These people, who at the embalming of the dead 
opened the body of the deceased, had become despised 
for their office of mutilating the sacred temple of the 
soul; but no paraschites chose his calling of his own 
free will.* It was handed down from father to son, and 
he who was born a paraschites—so he was taught—had 
to expiate an old guilt with which his soul had long 
ago burdened itself in a former existence, within another 
body, and which had deprived it of absolution in the 
nether world. It had passed through various animal 
forms, and now began a new human course in the body 
of a paraschites, once more to stand after death in the 
presence of the judges of the under-world. 

Pentaur had crossed the threshold of the man he 
despised with aversion; the man himself, sitting at the 
feet of the suffering girl, had exclaimed as he saw the 
priest approaching the hovel: 

“ Yet another white robe! Does misfortune cleanse 
the unclean ?” 


* Diodorus I, 91. 


UARDA. 


73 


Pentaur had not answered the old man, who on 
his part took no further notice of him, while he rubbed 
the girl’s feet by order of the leech; and his hands im¬ 
pelled by tender anxiety untiringly continued the same 
movement, as the water-wheel in the Nile keeps up 
without intermission its steady motion in the stream. 

“ Does misfortune cleanse the unclean ?” Pentaur 
asked himself. “Does it indeed possess a purifying 
efficacy, and is it possible that the Gods, who gave to 
tire the power of refining metals and to the winds 
power to sweep the clouds from the sky, should desire 
that a man—made in their own image—that a man 
should be tainted from his birth to his death with an 
indelible stain ?” 

He looked at the face of the paraschites, and it 
seemed to him to resemble that of his father. 

This startled him! 

And when he noticed how the woman, in whose 
lap the girl’s head was resting, bent over the injured 
bosom of the child to catch her breathing, which she 
feared had come to a stand-still—with the anguish of 
a dove that is struck down by a hawk—he remembered 
a moment in his own childhood, when he had lain 
trembling with fever on his little bed. What then had 
happened to him, or had gone on around him, he had 
long forgotten, but one image was deeply imprinted 
on his soul, that of the face of his mother bending 
over him in deadly anguish, but who had gazed on 
her sick boy not more tenderly, or more anxiously, 
than this despised woman on her suffering child. 

“There is only one utterly unselfish, utterly pure 
and utterly divine love,” said he to himself, “and that 
is the love of Isis for Horus—the love of a mother for 
6 


74 


UARDA. 


her child. If these people were indeed so foul as to 
defile every thing they touch, how would this pure, 
this tender, holy impulse show itself even in them in 
all its beauty and perfection?” 

“Still,” he continued, “the Celestials have im¬ 
planted maternal love in the breast of the lioness, of 
the typhonic river-horse of the Nile.” 

He looked compassionately at the wife of the 
paraschites. 

He saw her dark face as she turned it away from 
the sick girl. She had felt her breathe, and a smile 
of happiness lighted up her old features; she nodded 
first to the surgeon, and then with a deep sigh of 
relief to her husband, who, while he did not cease the 
movement of his left hand, held up his right hand in 
prayer to heaven, and his wife did the same. 

It seemed to Pentaur that he could see the souls 
of these two, floating above the youthful creature in 
holy union as they joined their hands; and again he 
thought of his parents’ house, of the hour when his 
sweet, only sister died. His mother had thrown her¬ 
self weeping on the pale form, but his father had 
stamped his foot and had thrown back his head, 
sobbing and striking his forehead with his fist. 

“How piously submissive and thankful are these 
unclean ones!” thought Pentaur; and repugnance for 
the old laws began to take root in his heart. “ Maternal 
love may exist in the hyaena, but to seek and find God 
pertains only to man, who has a noble aim. Up to the 
limits of eternity—and God is eternal!—thought is 
denied to animals; they cannot even smile. Even men 
cannot smile at first, for only physical life—an animal 
soul—dwells in them; but soon a share of the world’s 


UARDA, 


75 


soul—beaming intelligence—works within them, and 
first shows itself in the smile of a child, which is as 
pure as the light and the truth from which it comes. 
The child of the paraschites smiles like any other 
creature born of woman, but how few aged men there 
are, even among the initiated, who can smile as in¬ 
nocently and brightly as this woman who has grown 
grey under open ill-treatment.” 

Deep sympathy began to fill his heart, and he knelt 
down by the side of the poor child, raised her arm, 
and prayed fervently to that One who had created 
the heavens and who rules the world—to that One, 
whom the mysteries of faith forbade him to name; 
and not to the innumerable gods, whom the people 
worshipped, and who to him were nothing but in¬ 
carnations of the attributes of the One and only 
God of the initiated—of whom he was one—who 
was thus brought down to the comprehension of the 
laity. 

He raised his soul to God in passionate emotion; 
but he prayed, not for the child before him and for 
her recovery, but rather for the whole despised race, and 
for its release from the old ban, for the enlightenment 
of his own soul, imprisoned in doubts, and for strength 
to fulfil his hard task with discretion. 

The gaze of the sufferer followed him as he took up 
his former position. 

The prayer had refreshed his soul and restored him 
to cheerfulness of spirit. He began to reflect what 
conduct he must observe towards the princess. 

He had not met Bent-Anat for the first time yester¬ 
day ; on the contrary, he had frequently seen her in 
holiday processions, and at the high festivals in the 


7 ^ 


UARDA. 


Necropolis, and like all his young companions had ad¬ 
mired her proud beauty—admired it as the distant light 
of the stars, or the evening-glow on the horizon. 

Now he must approach this lady with words of 
reproof. 

He pictured to himself the moment when he must 
advance to meet her, and could not help thinking of 
his little tutor Chufu, above whom he towered by two 
heads while he was still a boy, and who used to call 
up his admonitions to him from below. It was true, 
he himself was tall and slim, but he felt as if to-day 
he were to play .the part towards Bent-Anat of the 
much-laughed-at little tutor. 

His sense of the comic was touched, and asserted 
itself at this serious moment, and with such melancholy 
surroundings. Life is rich in contrasts, and a suscep¬ 
tible and highly-strung human soul would break down 
like a bridge under the measured tread of soldiers, if it 
were allowed to let the burden of the heaviest thoughts 
and strongest feelings work upon it in undisturbed 
monotony; but just as in music every key-note has its 
harmonies, so when we cause one chord of our heart 
to vibrate for long, all sorts of strange notes respond 
and clang, often those which we least expect. 

Pentaur’s glance flew round the one low, over-filled 
room of the paraschites’ hut, and like a lightning flash 
the thought, “How will the princess and her train find 
room here?” flew through his mind. 

His fancy was lively, and vividly brought before 
him how the daughter of the Pharaoh with a crown 
on her proud head would bustle into the silent chamber, 
how the chattering courtiers would follow her, and how 
the women by the walls, the physicians by the side of 


UARDA. 


77 


the sick girl, the sleek white cafc> from the chest 
where she sat, would rise and throng round her. 
There must be frightful confusion. Then he imagined 
how the smart lords and ladies would keep them¬ 
selves far from the unclean, hold their slender hands 
over their mouths and noses, and suggest to the 
old folks how they ought to behave to the princess 
who condescended to bless them with her presence. 
The old woman must lay down the head that rested 
in her bosom, the paraschites must drop the feet he so 
anxiously rubbed, on the floor, to rise and kiss the 
dust before Bent-Anat. Whereupon—the “ mind’s eye” 
of the young priest seemed to see it all—the courtiers 
fled before him, pushing each other, and all crowded 
together into a corner, and at last the princess threw a 
tew silver or gold rings into the laps of the father and 
mother, and perhaps to the girl too, and he seemed to 
hear the courtiers all cry out: “Hail to the gracious 
daughter of the Sun!”—to hear the joyful exclamations 
of the crowd of women—to see the gorgeous appari¬ 
tion leave the hut of the .despised people, and then to 
see, instead of the lovely sick child who still breathed 
audibly, a silent corpse on the crumpled mat, and in 
the place of the two tender nurses at her head and 
feet, two heart-broken, loud-lamenting wretches. 

Pentaur’s hot spirit was full of wrath. As soon as 
the noisy cortege appeared actually in sight he would 
place himself in the doorway, forbid the princess to 
enter, and receive her with strong words. 

She could hardly come hither out of human kind¬ 
ness. 

“She wants variety,” said he to himself, “something 
new at Court; for there is little going on there now 


7 8 


UARDA. 


the king tarries with the troops in a distant country; 
it tickles the vanity of the great to find themselves 
once in a while in contact with the small, and it is 
well to have your goodness of heart spoken of by the 
people. If a little misfortune opportunely happens, it 
is not worth the trouble to inquire whether the form 
of our benevolence does more good or mischief to such 
wretched people.” 

He ground his teeth angrily, and thought no more 
of the defilement which might threaten Bent-Anat from 
the paraschites, but exclusively, on the contrary, of the 
impending desecration by the princess of the holy feel¬ 
ings astir in this silent room. 

Excited as he was to fanaticism, his condemning 
lips could not fail to find vigorous and impressive 
words. 

He stood drawn to his full height and drawing his 
breath deeply, like a spirit of light who holds his 
weapon raised to annihilate a demon of darkness, and 
he looked out into the valley to perceive from afar the 
cry of the runners and the rattle of the wheels of the 
gay train he expected. 

And he saw the doorway darkened by a lowly, 
bending figure, who, with folded arms, glided into the 
room and sank down silently by the side of the sick 
girl. The physicians and the old people moved as if 
to rise; but she signed to them without opening her 
lips, and with moist, expressive eyes, to keep their 
places ; she looked long and lovingly in the face of the 
wounded girl, stroked her white arm, and turning to 
the old woman softly whispered to her— 

“ How pretty she is!” 

The paraschites’ wife nodded assent, and the girl 


UARDA. 


79 


smiled and moved her lips as though she had caught 
the words and wished to speak. 

Bent-Anat took a rose from her hair and laid it on 
her bosom. 

The paraschites, who had not taken his hands from 
the feet of the sick child, but who had followed every 
movement of the princess, now whispered, “ May Hathor 
requite thee, who gave thee thy beauty.” 

The princess turned to him and said, “Forgive the 
sorrow, I have caused you.” 

The old man stood up, letting the feet of the sick 
girl fall, and asked in a clear loud voice— 

“Art thou Bent-Anat?” 

“Yes, I am,” replied the princess, bowing her head 
low, and in so gentle a voice, that it seemed as though 
she were ashamed of her proud name. 

The eyes of the old man flashed. Then he said 
softly but decisively— 

“Leave my hut then, it will defile thee.” 

“Not till you have forgiven me for that which I did 
unintentionally.” 

“Unintentionally! I believe thee,” replied the para¬ 
schites. “The hoofs of thy horse became unclean when 
they trod on this white breast. Look here—” and he 
lifted the cloth from the girl’s bosom, and showed her 
the deep red wound, “ Look here—here is the first rose 
you laid on my grandchild’s bosom, and the second— 
there it goes.” 

The paraschites raised his arm to fling the flower 
through the door of his hut. But Pentaur had ap¬ 
proached him, and with a grasp of iron held the old 
man’s hand. 

“Stay,” he cried in an eager tone, moderated how- 


8 o 


UARDA. 


ever for the sake of the sick girl. “ The third rose, 
which this noble hand has offered you, your sick heart 
and silly head have not even perceived. And yet you 
must know it if only from your need, your longing for 
it. The fair blossom of pure benevolence is laid on 
your child’s heart, and at your very feet, by this proud 
princess. Not with gold, but with humility. And 
whoever the daughter of Rameses approaches as her 
equal, bows before her, even if he were the first prince 
in the Land of Egypt. Indeed, the Gods shall not 
forget this deed of Bent-Anat. And you—forgive, if you 
desire to be forgiven that guilt, which you bear as an 
inheritance from your fathers, and for your own sins.” 

The paraschites bowed his head at these words, 
and when he raised it the anger had vanished from his 
well-cut features. He rubbed his wrist, which had been 
squeezed by Pentaur’s iron fingers, and said in a tone 
which betrayed all the bitterness of his feelings: 

“ Thy hand is hard, Priest, and thy words hit like 
the strokes of a hammer. This fair lady is good and 
loving, and I know that she did not drive her horse in¬ 
tentionally over this poor girl, who is my grandchild and 
not my daughter. If she were thy wife or the wife of 
the leech there, or the child of the poor woman yonder, 
who supports life by collecting the feet and feathers of 
the fowls that are slaughtered for sacrifice, I would not 
only forgive her, but console her for having made her¬ 
self like to me; fate would have made her a murderess 
without any fault of her own, just as it stamped me as 
unclean while I was still at my mother’s breast. Aye 
—I would comfort her; and yet I am not very sensitive. 
Ye holy three of Thebes!* how should I be? Great and 

* The triad of Thebes: Amon, Muth and Chunsu. 


UARDA. 


81 


small get out of my way that I may not touch them, 
and every day when I have done what it is my busi¬ 
ness to do they throw stones at me* The fulfilment 
of duty—which brings a living to other men, which 
makes their happiness, and at the same time earns them 
honor, brings me every day fresh disgrace and painful 
sores. But I complain to no man, and must forgive— 
forgive—forgive, till at last all that men do to me seems 
quite natural and unavoidable, and I take it all like the 
scorching of the sun in summer, and the dust that the 
west wind blows into my face. It does not make me 
happy, but what can I do ? I forgive all—” 

The voice of the paraschites had softened, and Bent- 
Anat, who looked down on him with emotion, inter¬ 
rupted him, exclaiming with deep feeling: 

“ And so you will forgive me ?—poor man !” 

The old man looked steadily, not at her, but at 
Pentaur, while he replied: “ Poor man ! aye, truly, poor 
man. You have driven me out of the world in which 
you live, and so I made a world for myself in this hut. 
I do not belong to you, and if I forget it, you drive me 
out as an intruder—nay as a wolf, who breaks into your 
fold; but you belong just as little to me, only when 
you play the wolf and fall upon me, I must bear it 1” 

“ The princess came to your hut as a suppliant, and 
with the wish of doing you some good,” said Pentaur. 

“ May the avenging Gods reckon it to her, when they 
visit on her the crimes of her father against me! Perhaps 
it may bring me to prison, but it must come out. Seven 
sons were mine, and Rameses took them all from me 

* The paraschites, with an Ethiopian knife, cuts the flesh of the corpse as 
deeply as the law requires; but instantly takes to flight, while the relatives of 
the deceased pursue him with stones ;md curses, as if they wished to throw the 
blame on him. 


82 


UARDA. 


and sent them to death; the child of the youngest, this 
girl, the light of my eyes, his daughter has brought to 
.her death. Three of my boys the king left to die of 
thirst by the Tenat,* which is to join the Nile to the Red 
Sea, three were killed by the Ethiopians, and the last, 
the star of my hopes, by this time is eaten by the hy¬ 
aenas of the north.” 

At these words the old woman, in whose lap the 
head of the girl rested, broke out into a loud cry, in 
which she was joined by all the other women. 

The sufferer started up frightened, and opened her 
eyes. 

“ For whom are you wailing?” she asked feebly. 

“ For your poor father,” said the old woman. 

The girl smiled like a child who detects some well- 
meant deceit, and said: 

“ Was not my father here, with you ? He is here, 
in Thebes, and looked at me, and kissed me, and said 
that he is bringing home plunder, and that a good time 
is coming for you. The gold ring that he gave me I 
was fastening into my dress, when the chariot passed 
over me. I was just pulling the knots, when all grew 
black before my eyes, and I saw and heard nothing 
more. Undo it, grandmother, the ring is for you; I 
meant to bring it to you. You must buy a beast for 
sacrifice with it, and wine for grandfather, and eye- 
salve** for yourself, and sticks of mastic,*** which 
you have so long had to do without.” 

* Literally the ‘ cutting” which, under Seti I., the father of Rameses, 
was the first “Suez Canal;’’ a representation of it is found on the northern outer 
wall of the temple of Kamak. It followed nearly the same direction as the Fresh¬ 
water canal of Lesseps, and fertilized the land of Goshen. 

** The Egyptian mestem, that is stibium or antimony, which was intro¬ 
duced into Egypt by the Asiatics at a very early period and universally used. 

*** At the present day the Egyptian women are fond of chewing them, on 
account of their pleasant taste. The ancient Egyptians used various pills. Re¬ 
ceipts for such things are found in the Ebers Papyrus. 


UARDA. 


83 


The paraschites seemed to drink these words from 
the mouth of his grandchild. Again he lifted his hand 
in prayer, again Pentaur observed that his glance met 
that of his wife, and a large, warm tear fell from his 
old eyes on to his callous hand. Then he sank down, 
for he thought the sick child was deluded by a dream. 
But there were the knots in her dress. 

With a trembling hand he untied them, and a gold 
ring rolled out on the floor. 

Bent-Anat picked it up, and gave it to the paraschites. 

“ I came here in a lucky hour,” she said, “ for you 
have recovered your son and your child will live.” 

“ She will live,” repeated the surgeon, who had re¬ 
mained a silent witness of all that had occurred. 

“ She will stay with us,” murmured the old man, and 
then said, as he approached the princess on his knees, 
and looked up at her beseechingly with tearful eyes: 

“ Pardon me as I pardon thee; and if a pious wish 
may not turn to a curse from the lips of the unclean, 
let me bless thee.” 

“ I thank you,” said Bent-Anat, towards whom the 
old man raised his hand in blessing. 

Then she turned to Nebsecht, and ordered him to 
take anxious care of the sick girl; she bent over her, 
kissed her forehead, laid her gold bracelet by her side, 
and signing to Pentaur left the hut with him. 


CHAPTER VI. 

During the occurrence we have described, the 
king’s pioneer and the young wife of Mena were 
obliged to wait for the princess. 


8 4 


UARDA. 


The sun stood in the meridian, when Bent-Anat 
had gone into the hovel of the paraschites. 

The bare limestone rocks on each side of the valley 
and the sandy soil between, shone with a vivid white¬ 
ness that hurt the eyes; not a hand’s breadth of shade 
was anywhere to be seen, and the fan-bearers of the 
two, who were waiting there, had, by command of the 
princess, staid behind with the chariot and litters. 

For a time they stood silently near each other, then 
the fair Nefert said, wearily closing her almond-shaped 
eyes: 

“ How long Bent-Anat stays in the hut of the un¬ 
clean ! I am perishing here. What shall we do ?” 

“ Stay!” said Paaker, turning his back on the lady; 
and mounting a block of stone by the side of the gorge, 
he cast a practised glance all round, and returned to 
Nefert: “I have found a shady spot,” he said, “out there.” 

Mena’s wife followed with her eyes the indication of 
his hand, and shook her head. The gold ornaments on 
her head-dress rattled gently as she did so, and a cold 
shiver passed over her slim body in spite of the mid¬ 
day heat. 

“ Sechet* is raging in the sky,” said Paaker. “ Let 
us avail ourselves of the shady spot, small though it be. 
At this hour of the day many are struck with sickness.” 

“ I know it,” said Nefert, covering her neck with 
her hand. Then she went towards two blocks of stone 
which leaned against each other, and between them 

* A goddess with the head of a lioness or a cat, over which the Sun-disk is 
usually found. She was the daughter of Ra, and in the form of the Uraeus on 
her father’s crown personified the murderous heat of the star of day. She incites 
man to the hot and wild passion of love, and as a cat or lioness tears burning 
wounds in the limbs of the guilty in the nether world; drunkenness and pleasure 
are her gifts She was also named Bast and Astarte after her sister-divinity 
among the Phoenicians. 


UARDA. 85 

afforded the spot of shade, not many feet wide, which 
Paaker had pointed out as a shelter from the sun. 

Paaker preceded her, and rolled a flat piece of 
limestone, inlaid by nature with nodules of flint, under 
the stone pavilion, crushed a few scorpions which had 
taken refuge there, spread his head-cloth over the 
hard seat, and said, “Here you are sheltered.” 

Nefert sank down on the stone and watched the 
Mohar, who slowly and silently paced backwards and 
forward in front of her. This incessant to and fro of 
her companion at last became unendurable to her 
sensitive and irritated nerves, and suddenly raising her 
head from her hand, on which she had rested it, she 
exclaimed— 

“Pray stand still.” 

The pioneer obeyed instantly, and looked, as he 
stood with his back to her, towards the hovel of the 
paraschites. 

After a short time Nefert said— 

“Say something to me!” 

The Mohar turned his full face towards her, and 
she was frightened at the wild fire that glowed in the 
glance with which he gazed at her. 

Nefert’s eyes fell, and Paaker, saying: 

“I would rather remain silent,” recommenced his 
walk, till Nefert called to him again and said,— 

“I know you are angry with me; but I was but a 
child when I was betrothed to you. I liked you too, 
and when in our games your mother called me your 
little wife, I was really glad, and used to think how 
fine it would be when I might call all your possessions 
mine, the house you would have so splendidly restored 
for me after your father’s death, the noble gardens, the 


86 


UARDA. 


fine horses in their stables, and all the male and 
female slaves!” 

Paaker laughed, but the laugh sounded so forced 
and scornful that it cut Nefert to the heart, and she 
went on, as if begging for indulgence: 

“It was said that you were angry with us; and 
now you will take my words as if I had cared only 
for your wealth; but I said, I liked you. Do you no 
longer remember how I cried with you over your tales 
of the bad boys in the school, and over your father’s 
severity? Then my uncle died;—then you went to 
Asia.” 

“And you,” interrupted Paaker, hardly and drily, 
“you broke your bethrothal vows, and became the wife 
of the charioteer Mena. I know it all; of what use 
is talking?” 

“ Because it grieves me that you should be angry, 
and your good mother avoid our house. If only you 
could know what it is when love seizes one, and one 
can no longer even think alone, but only near, and 
with, and in the very arms of another; when one’s 
beating heart throbs in one’s very temples, and even 
in one’s dreams one sees nothing—but one only.” 

“And do I not know it?” cried Paaker, placing 
himself close before her with his arms crossed. “ Do 
I not know it? and you it was who taught me to 
know it. When I thought of you, not blood, but 
burning fire, coursed in my veins, and now you have 
filled them with poison; and here in this breast, in 
which your image dwelt, as lovely as that of Hathor 
in her holy of holies, all is like that sea in Syria which 
is called the Dead Sea, in which every thing that tries 
to live presently dies and perishes.” 


UARDA. 87 

Paaker's eyes rolled as he spoke, and his voice 
sounded hoarsely as he went on. 

“But Mena was near to the king—nearer than I, 
and your mother—” 

“ My mother!”—Nefert interrupted the angry Mohar. 
“ My mother did not choose my husband. I saw him 
driving the chariot, and to me he resembled the Sun 
God, and he observed me, and looked at me, and his 
glance pierced deep into my heart like a spear; and 
when, at the festival of the king’s birthday, he spoke 
to me, it was just as if Hathor had thrown round me 
a web of sweet, sounding sunbeams. And it was the 
same with Mena; he himself has told me so since I 
have been his wife. For your sake my mother rejected 
his suit, but I grew pale and dull with longing for him, 
and he lost his bright spirit, and was so melancholy 
that the king remarked it, and asked what weighed on 
his heart—for Rameses loves him as his own son. Then 
Mena confessed to the Pharaoh that it was love that 
dimmed his eye and weakened his strong hand; and 
then the king himself courted me for his faithful 
servant, and my mother gave way, and we were made 
man and wife, and all the joys of the justified in the 
fields of Aalu* are shallow and feeble by the side of 
the bliss which we two have known—not like mortal 
men, but like the celestial gods.” 

Up to this point Nefert had fixed her large eyes 
on the sky, like a glorified soul; but now her gaze 
fell, and she said softly— 


* The fields of the blest, which were opened to glorified souls. In the 
Book of the Dead it is shown that in them men linger, and sow and reap by 
cool waters. 


88 


UARDA. 


“But the Cheta* disturbed our happiness, for the 
king took Mena with him to the war. Fifteen times 
did the moon rise upon our happiness, and then—” 

“And then the Gods heard my prayer, and accepted 
my offerings,” said Paaker, with a trembling voice, 
“and tore the robber of my joys from you, and 
scorched your heart and his with desire. Do you 
think you can tell me anything I do not know? Once 
again for fifteen days was Mena yours, and now he 
has not returned again from the war which is raging 
hotly in Asia.” 

“But he will return,” cried the young wife. 

“Or possibly not,” laughed Paaker. “The Cheta, 
carry sharp weapons, and there are many vultures in 
Lebanon, who perhaps at this hour are tearing his 
flesh as he tore my heart.” 

Nefert rose at these words, her sensitive spirit 
bruised as with stones thrown by a brutal hand, and 
attempted to leave her shady refuge to follow the 
princess into the house of the paraschites; but her feet 
refused to bear her, and she sank back trembling on 
her stone seat. She tried to find words, but her tongue 
was powerless. Her powers of resistance forsook her 
in her unutterable and soul-felt distress—heart-wrung, 
forsaken and provoked. 

A variety of painful sensations raised a hot vehe¬ 
ment storm in her bosom, which checked her breath, 
and at last found relief in a passionate and convulsive 
weeping that shook her whole body. She saw nothing 
more, she heard nothing more, she only shed tears and 
felt herself miserable. 


* An Aramaean race, according to Schrader’s excellent judgment. At the 
time of our story the peoples of western Asia had allied themselves to them. 


UARDA. 


89 


Paaker stood over her in silence. 

There are trees in the tropics, on which white 
blossoms hang close by the withered fruit, there are 
days when the pale moon shows itself near the clear 
bright sun;—and it is given to the soul of man to feel 
love and hatred, both at the same time, and to direct 
both to the same end. 

Nefert’s tears fell as dew, her sobs as manna on 
the soul of Paaker, which hungered and thirsted for 
revenge. Her pain was joy to him, and yet the sight 
of her beauty filled him with passion, his gaze lingered 
spell-bound on her graceful form; he would have given 
all the bliss of heaven once, only once, to hold her in 
his arms—once, only once, to hear a word of love from 
her lips. 

After some minutes Nefert’s tears grew less violent. 
With a weary, almost indifferent gaze she looked ar 
the Mohar, still standing before her, and said in a soft 
tone of entreaty: 

“ My tongue is parched, fetch me a little water.” 

“The princess may come out at any moment,” re¬ 
plied Paaker. 

“But I am fainting,” said Nefert, and began again 
to cry gently. 

Paaker shrugged his shoulders, and went farther 
into the valley, which he knew as well as his father’s 
house; for in it was the tomb of his mother’s ancestors, 
in which, as a boy, he had put up prayers at every full 
and new moon, and laid gifts on the altar. 

The hut of the paraschites was prohibited to him, 
but he knew that scarcely a hundred paces from the 
spot where Nefert was sitting, lived an old woman of 
7 


9 ° 


UARDA. 


evil repute, in whose hole in the rock he could not 
fail to find a drink of water. 

He hastened forward, half intoxicated with all he 
had seen and felt within the last few minutes. 

The door, which at night closed the cave against 
the intrusions of the plunder-seeking jackals, was wide 
open, and the old woman sat outside under a ragged 
piece of brown sail-cloth, fastened at one end to the 
rock and at the other to two posts of rough wood. 
She was sorting a heap of dark and light-colored 
roots, which lay in her lap. Near her was a wheel, 
which turned in a high wooden fork. A wryneck 
made fast to it by a little chain, and by springing from 
spoke to spoke kept it in continual motion.* A large 
black cat crouched beside her, and smelt at some 
ravens’ and owls’ heads, from which the eyes had not 
long since been extracted. 

Two sparrow-hawks sat huddled up over the door 
of the cave, out of which came the sharp odor of 
burning juniper-berries; this was intended to render 
the various emanations rising from the different strange 
substances, which were collected and preserved there, 
innocuous. 

As Paaker approached the cavern the old woman 
called out to some one within: 

“ Is the wax cooking ?” 

An unintelligible murmur was heard in answer. 

“ Then throw in the ape’s eyes,** and the ibis- 
feathers, and the scraps of linen with the black signs 
on them. Stir it all a little; now put out the fire. 

* From Theocritus’ idyl: The Sorceress. 

** The sentences and mediums employed by the witches, according to 
papyrus-rolls which remain. I have availed myself of the Magic papyrus of 
Harris, and of two in the Berlin collection, one of which is in Greek. 


TJAPDA. 


9 r 

Take the jug and fetch some water—make haste, here 
comes a stranger.” 

A sooty-black negro woman, with a piece of torn 
colorless stuff hanging round her hips, set a large 
clay-jar on her grey woolly matted hair, and without 
looking at him, went past Paaker, who was now close 
to the cave. 

The old woman, a tall figure bent with years, with 
a sharply-cut and wrinkled face, that might once have 
been handsome, made her preparations for receiving 
the visitor by tying a gaudy kerchief over her head, 
fastening her blue cotton garment round her throat, 
and flinging a fibre mat over the birds’ heads. 

Paaker called out to her, but she feigned to be 
deaf and not to hear his voice. Only when he stood 
quite close to her, did she raise her shrewd, twinkling 
eyes, and cry out: 

“ A lucky day! a white day that brings a noble 
guest and high honor.” 

“ Get up,” commanded Paaker, not giving her any 
greeting, but throwing a silver ring * among the roots 
that lay in her lap, “ and give me in exchange for good 
money some water in a clean vessel.” 

“ Fine pure silver,” said the old woman, while she 
held the ring, which she had quickly picked out from 
the roots, close to her eyes; “ it is too much for mere 
water, and too little for my good liquors.” 

“ Don’t chatter, hussy, but make haste,” cried 
Paaker, taking another ring from his money-bag and 
throwing it into her lap. 

“ Thou hast an open hand,” said the old woifian, 

* The Egyptians had no coins before Alexander and the Ptolemies, but 
used metals for exchange, usually in the form of rings. 


9 2 


UARDA. 


speaking in the dialect of the upper classes; “many 
doors must be open to thee, for money is a pass-key 
that turns any lock. Would’st thou have water for 
thy good money ? Shall it protect thee against noxious 
beasts?—shall it help thee to reach down a star? Shall 
it guide thee to secret paths?—It is thy duty to lead 
the way. Shall it make heat cold, or cold warm? 
Shall it give thee the power of reading hearts, or shall 
it beget beautiful dreams? Wilt thou drink of the 
water of knowledge and see whether thy friend or 
thine enemy—ha! if thine enemy shall die? Would’st 
thou a drink to strengthen thy memory ? Shall the water 
make thee invisible? or remove the sixth toe from thy 
left foot?” 

“You know me?” asked Paaker. 

“How should I?” said the old woman, “but my 
eyes are sharp, and I can prepare good waters for great 
and small.” 

“Mere babble!” exclaimed Paaker, impatiently 
clutching at the whip in his girdle; “make haste, for 
the lady for whom—” 

“ Dost thou want the water for a lady ?” interrupted 
the old woman. “ Who would have thought it ?—old men 
certainly ask for my philters much oftener than young 
ones,—but I can serve thee.” 

With these words the old woman went into the 
cave, and soon returned with a thin cylindrical flask 
of alabaster in her hand. 

“This is the drink,” she said, giving the phial to 
Paaker. “ Pour half into water, and offer it to the lady. 
If it does not succeed at first, it is certain the second 
time. A child may drink the water and it will not 
hurt him, or if an old man takes it, it makes him 


UARDA. 


93 


gay. Ah, I know the taste of it!” and she moistened 
her lips with the white fluid. “It can hurt no one, but 
I will take no more of it, or old Hekt will be tormented 
with love and longing for thee; and that would ill 
please the rich young lord, ha! ha! If the drink is in 
vain I am paid enough, if it takes effect thou shalt 
bring me three more gold rings; and thou wilt return, 
I know it well.” 

Paaker had listened motionless to the old woman, 
and siezed the flask eagerly, as if bidding defiance to 
some adversary; he put it in his money bag, threw a 
few more rings at the feet of the witch, and once more 
hastily demanded a bowl of Nile-water. 

“Is my lord in such a hurry?” muttered the old 
woman, once more going into the cave. “ He asks if I 
know him ? him certainly I do ? but the darling ? who 
can it be hereabouts? perhaps little Uarda at the 
paraschites yonder. She is pretty enough; but she is 
lying on a mat, run over and dying. We must see 
what my lord means, He would have pleased me well 
enough, if I were young; but he will reach the goal, 
for he is resolute and spares no one.” 

While she muttered these and similar words, she 
filled a graceful cup of glazed earthenware with filtered 
Nile-water, which she poured out of a large porous 
clay jar, and laid a laurel leaf, on which was scratched 
two hearts linked together by seven strokes, on the 
surface of the limpid fluid. Then she stepped out 
into the air again. 

As Paaker took the vessel from her hand, and 
looked at the laurel leaf, she said: 

“This indeed binds hearts; three is the husband. 


94 


UARDA. 


four is the wife, seven is the indivisible. Chaach, 
chachach, charcharachacha.”* 

The old woman sang this spell not without skill; 
but the Mohar appeared not to listen to her jargon. 
He descended carefully into the valley, and directed 
his steps to the resting place of the wife of Mena. 

By the side of a rock, which hid him from Nefert, 
he paused, set the cup on a flat block of stone, and 
drew the flask with the philter out of his girdle. 

His fingers trembled, but a thousand voices within 
seemed to surge up and cry— 

“Take it!—do it!—put in the drink!—now or never.” 

He felt like a solitary traveller, who finds on his 
road the last will of a relation whose possessions he 
had hoped for, but which disinherits him. Shall he 
surrender it to the judge, or shall he destroy it. 

Paaker was not merely outwardly devout; hitherto 
he had in everything intended to act according to the 
prescriptions of the religion of his fathers. Adultery 
was a heavy sin;—but had not he an older right to 
Nefert than the king’s charioteer? 

He who followed the black arts of magic, should, 
according to the law, be punished by death,** and the 
old woman had a bad name for her evil arts; but he 
had not sought her for the sake of the philter. Was 
it not possible that the Manes of his forefathers, that 
the Gods themselves, moved by his prayers and offer¬ 
ings, had put him in possession by an accident—which 
was almost a miracle—of the magic potion whose 
efficacy he never for an instant doubted? 

* This jargon is found in a magic-papyrus at Berlin. 

** From the papyri Lee and Rollin. See also Birch Sur unpapyrus ma . 
cique. Revue archeologique, 1863. Chabas, Harris magic-papyrus. Deveria. 
Bapyr, judiciaire de Turin. 


UARD.M. 


95 


Paaker’s associates held him to be a man of quick 
decision, and, in fact, in difficult cases he could act 
with unusual rapidity, but what guided him in these 
cases, was not the swift-winged judgment of a prepared 
and well-schooled brain, but usually only resulted from 
the outcome of a play of question and answer. 

Amulets of the most various kinds hung round his 
neck, and from his girdle, all consecrated by priests, 
and of special sanctity or the highest efficacy. 

There was the lapis lazuli eye, which hung to his 
girdle by a gold chain; when he threw it on the 
ground, so as to lie on the earth, if its engraved side 
turned to heaven, and its smooth side lay on the 
ground, he said “yes;” in the other case, on the con¬ 
trary, “no.” In his purse lay always a statuette of 
the god Apheru,* who opened roads; this he threw 
down at cross-roads, and followed the direction which 
the pointed snout of the image indicated. He fre¬ 
quently called into council the seal-ring of his deceased 
father, an old family possession, which the chief 
priests of Abydos had laid upon the holiest of the 
fourteen graves of Osiris, and endowed with miraculous 
power.** It consisted of a gold ring with a broad signet, 
on which could be read the name of Thotmes III., who 
had long since been deified, and from whom Paaker’s 
ancestors had derived it. If it were desirable to 
consult the ring, the Mohar touched with the point of 
his bronze dagger the engraved sign of the name, 

* A particular form of Anubis—as was the jackal-headed local divinity of 
Lykopolis, the modern Sint. 

** Typhon cut the body of Osiris into fourteen pieces, and then strewed 
them in Egypt. When Isis found one of them she erected a monument to her 
husband. In later times none of these was reckoned more holy than that of 
Abydos, whither also Egyptians of rank had their mummies conveyed to rest 
in the vicinity of Osiris. 


9 6 


UARDA. 


below which were represented three objects sacred to 
the Gods, and three that were, on the contrary, pro¬ 
fane. If he hit one of the former, he concluded that 
his father—who was gone to Osiris—concurred in his 
design; in the contrary case he was careful to postpone 
it. Often he pressed the ring to his heart, and awaited 
the first living creature that he might meet, regarding 
it as a messenger from his father;—if it came to him 
from the right hand as an encouragement, if from the 
left as a warning. 

By degrees he had reduced these questionings to 
a system. All that he found in nature he referred to 
himself and the current of his life. It was at once 
touching, and pitiful, to see how closely he lived with 
the Manes of his dead. His lively, but not exalted 
fancy, wherever he gave it play, presented to the eye 
of his soul the image of his father and of an elder 
brother who had died early, always in the same spot, 
and almost tangibly distinct. 

But he never conjured up the remembrance of the 
beloved dead in order to think of them in silent 
melancholy—that sweet blossom of the thorny wreath 
of sorrow; only for selfish ends. The appeal to the 
Manes of his father he had found especially efficacious 
in certain desires and difficulties; calling on the Manes 
of his brother was potent in certain others; and so he 
turned from one to the other with the precision of a 
carpenter, who rarely doubts whether he should give 
the preference to a hatchet or a saw. 

These doings he held to be well pleasing to the 
Gods, and as he was convinced that the spirits of his 
dead had, after their justification, passed into Osiris— 
that is to say, as atoms forming part of the great 


UARDA. 


97 


world-soul, at this time had a share in the direction 
of the universe—he sacrificed to them not only in the 
family catacomb, but also in the temples of the Necro¬ 
polis dedicated to the worship of ancestors, and with 
special preference in the House of Seti. 

He accepted advice, nay even blame, from Ameni 
and the other priests under his direction; and so lived 
full of a virtuous pride in being one of the most 
zealous devotees in the land, and one of the most 
pleasing to the Gods, a belief on which his pastors 
never threw any doubt. 

Attended and guided at every step by supernatural 
powers, he wanted no friend and no confidant. In 
the field, as in Thebes, he stood apart, and passed 
among his comrades for a reserved man, rough and 
proud, but with a strong will. 

He had the power of calling up the image of his 
lost love with as much vividness as the forms of the 
dead, and indulged in this magic, not only through a 
hundred still nights, but in long rides and drives 
through silent wastes. 

Such visions were commonly followed by a vehe¬ 
ment and boiling overflow of his hatred against the 
charioteer, and a whole series of fervent prayers for 
his destruction. 

When Paaker set the cup of water for Nefert on 
the flat stone and felt for the philter, his soul was so 
full of desire that there was no room for hatred; still 
he could not altogether exclude the idea that he 
would commit a great crime by making use of a 
magic drink. Before pouring the fateful drops into 
the w r ater, he would consult the oracle of the ring. 
The dagger touched none of the holy symbols of the 

/ 


x 


0 


gS UARDA. 

inscription on the signet, and in other circumstances 
he would, without going any farther, have given up his 
project. 

But this time he unwillingly returned it to its 
sheath, pressed the gold ring to his heart, muttered the 
name of his brother in Osiris, and awaited the first 
living creature that might come towards him. 

He had not long to wait; from the mountain slope 
opposite to him rose, with heavy, slow wing-strokes, 
two light-colored vultures. 

In anxious suspense he followed their flight, as 
they rose, higher and higher. For a moment they 
poised motionless, borne up by the air, circled round 
each other, then wheeled to the left and vanished be¬ 
hind the mountains, denying him the fulfilment of his 
desire. 

He hastily grasped the phial to fling it from him, 
but the surging passion in his veins had deprived 
him of his self-control. Nefert’s image stood before him 
as if beckoning him; a mysterious power clenched his 
fingers close and yet closer round the phial, and with 
the same defiance which he showed to his associates, 
he poured half of the philter into the cup and ap¬ 
proached his victim. 

Nefert had meanwhile left her shady retreat and 
come towards him. 

She silently accepted the water he offered her, 
and drank it with delight, to the very dregs. 

“Thank you,” she said, when she had recovered 
breath after her eager draught. 

“That has done me good! How fresh and acid the 
water tastes; but your hand shakes, and you are heated 
by your quick run for me—poor man.” 


UARDA. 


99 


With these words she looked at him with a peculiar 
expressive glance of her large eyes, and gave him her 
right hand, which he pressed wildly to his lips. 

“That will do,” she said smiling; “here comes the 
princess with a priest, out of the hovel of the unclean. 
With what frightful words you terrified me just now. 
It is true I gave you just cause to be angry with me; 
but now you are kind again—do you hear?—and will 
bring your mother again to see mine. Not a word. I 
shall see, whether cousin Paaker refuses me obedi¬ 
ence.” 

“She threatened him playfully with her finger, and 
then growing grave she added, with a look that pierced 
Paaker’s heart with pain, and yet with ecstasy, “Let us 
leave off quarrelling. It is so much better when people 
are kind to each other.” 

After these words she walked towards the house of 
the paraschites, while Paaker pressed his hands to his 
breast, and murmured: 

“The drink is working, and she will be mine. I 
thank ye—ye Immortals!” 

But this thanksgiving, which hitherto he had never 
failed to utter when any good fortune had befallen him, 
to-day died on his lips. Close before him he saw the 
goal of his desires; there, under his eyes, lay the magic 
spring longed for for years. A few steps farther, and he 
might slake at its copious stream his thirst both for 
love and for revenge. 

While he followed the wife of Mena, and replaced 
the phial carefully in his girdle, so as to lose no drop 
of the precious fluid which, according to the prescription 
of the old woman, he needed to use again, warning 
voices spoke in his breast, to which he usually listened 


IOO 


UARDA. 


as to a fatherly admonition; but at this moment he 
mocked at them, and even gave outward expression to 
the mood that ruled him—for he flung up his right hand 
like a drunken man, who turns away from the preacher 
of morality on his way to the wine-cask; and yet passion 
held him so closely ensnared, that the thought that he 
should live through the swift moments which would 
change him from an honest man into a criminal, hard¬ 
ly dawned, darkly on his soul. He had hitherto dared 
to indulge his desire for love and revenge in thought 
only, and had left it to the Gods to act for themselves; 
now he had taken his cause out of the hand of the 
Celestials, and gone into action without them, and in 
spite of them. 

The sorceress Hekt passed him; she wanted to see 
the woman for whom she had given him the philter. He 
perceived her and shuddered, but soon the old woman 
vanished among the rocks muttering. 

“ Look at the fellow with six toes. He makes himself 
comfortable with the heritage of Assa.” 

In the middle of the valley walked Nefert and the 
pioneer, with the princess Bent-Anat and Pentaur who 
accompanied her. 

When these two had come out of the hut of the 
paraschites, they stood opposite each other in silence. 

The royal maiden pressed her hand to her heart, 
and, like one who is thirsty, drank in the pure air of 
the mountain valley with deeply drawn breath; she felt 
as if released from some overwhelming burden, as if 
delivered from some frightful danger. 

At last she turned to her companion, who gazed 
earnestly at the ground. 

“What an hour!” she said. 


UARDA. 


IOI 


Pentaur’s tall figure did not move, but he bowed 
his head in assent, as if he were in a dream. 

Bent-Anat now saw him for the first time in full 
daylight; her large eyes rested on him with admiration, 
and she asked: 

“Art thou the priest, who yesterday, after my first 
visit to this house, so readily restored me to cleanness ?” 

“I am he,” replied Pentaur. 

“I recognized thy voice, and I am grateful to thee, 
for it was thou that didst strengthen my courage to 
follow the impulse of my heart, in spite of my spiritual 
guides, and to come here again. Thou wilt defend me 
if others blame me.” 

“I came here to pronounce thee unclean.” 

“Then thou hast changed thy mind?” asked Bent- 
Anat, and a smile of contempt curled her lips. 

“I follow a high injunction, that commands us to 
keep the old institutions sacred. If touching a paras- 
chites, it is said, does not defile a princess, whom then 
can it defile? for whose garment is more spotless than 
hers ?” 

“But this is a good man with all his meanness,” 
interrupted Bent-Anat, “and in spite of the disgrace, 
which is the bread of life to him as honor is to us. 
May the nine great Gods forgive me! but he who is in 
there is loving, pious and brave, and pleases me—and 
thou, thou, who didst think yesterday to purge away the 
taint of his touch with a word—what prompts thee to¬ 
day to cast him with the lepers?” 

“The admonition of an enlightened man, never to 
give up any link of the old institutions; because 
thereby the already weakened chain may be broken, 
and fall rattling to the ground.’ * 


102 


UARDA. 


“Then thou condemnest me to uncleanness for the 
sake of an old superstition, and of the populace, but 
not for my actions ? Thou art silent ? Answer me now, 
if thou art such a one as I took thee for, freely and 
sincerely; for it concerns the peace of my soul.” 

Pentaur breathed hard; and then from the depths 
of his soul, tormented by doubts, these deeply-felt 
words forced themselves as if wrung from him; at first 
softly, but louder as he went on. 

“Thou dost compel me to say what I had better 
not even think; but rather will I sin against obedience 
than against truth, the pure daughter of the Sun, whose 
aspect, Bent-Anat, thou dost wear. Whether the paras- 
chites is unclean by birth or not, who am I that I 
should decide ? But to me this man appeared—as to 
thee—as one moved by the same pure and holy emo¬ 
tions as stir and bless me and mine, and thee and 
every soul born of woman; and I believe that the im¬ 
pressions of this hour have touched thy soul as well as 
mine, not to taint, but to purify. If I am wrong, may 
the many-named Gods forgive me, Whose breath lives 
and works in the paraschites as well as in thee and me, 
in Whom I believe, and to Whom I will ever address 
my humble songs, louder and more joyfully, as I learn 
that all that lives and breathes, that weeps and rejoices, 
is the image of their sublime nature, and born to equal 
joy and equal sorrow.” 

Pentaur had raised his eyes to heaven; now they 
met the proud and joyful radiance of the princess’ glance, 
while she frankly offered him her hand. He humbly 
kissed her robe, but she said: 

“Nay—not so. Lay thy hand in blessing on mine. 
Thou art a man and a true priest. Now I can be satis- 


UARDA. 


I0 3 

fied to be regarded as unclean, for my father also de¬ 
sires that, by us especially, the institutions of the past 
that have so long continued should be respected, for 
the sake of the people. Let us pray in common to the 
Gods, that these poor people may be released from the 
old ban. How beautiful the world might be, if men 
would but let man remain what the Celestials have 
made him. But Paaker and poor Nefert are waiting in 
the scorching sun—come, follow me.” 

She went forward, but after a few steps she turned 
round to him, and asked: 

“What is thy name?” 

“Pentaur.” 

“Thou then art the poet of the House of Seti?” 

“They call me so.” 

Bent-Anat stood still a moment, gazing full at him 
as at a kinsman whom we meet for the first time face 
to face, and said: 

“The Gods have given thee great gifts, for thy 
glance reaches farther and pierces deeper than that of 
other men; and thou canst say in words what we can 
only feel—I follow thee willingly! ” 

Pentaur blushed like a boy, and said, while Paaker 
and Nefert came nearer to them: 

“Till to-day life lay before me as if in twilight; but 
this moment shows it me in another light. I have seen 
its deepest shadows; and,” he added in a low tone 
“how glorious its light can be.” 



104 


UARDA. 


CHAPTER VII. 

An hour later, Bent-Anat and her train of followers 
stood before the gate of the House of Seti. 

Swift as a ball thrown from a man’s hand, a runner 
had sprung forward and hurried on to announce the 
approach of the princess to the chief priest. She stood 
alone in her chariot, in advance of all her companions, 
for Pentaur had found a place with Paaker. At the 
gate of the temple they were met by the head of the 
haruspices. 

The great doors of the pylon were wide open, and 
afforded a view into the forecourt of the sanctuary, 
paved with polished squares of stone, and surrounded 
on three sides with colonnades. The walls and archi¬ 
traves, the pillars and the fluted cornice, which slightly 
curved in over the court, were gorgeous with many- 
colored figures and painted decorations. In the middle 
stood a great sacrificial altar, on which burned logs of 
cedar wood, whilst fragrant balls of Kyphi* were con¬ 
sumed by the flames, filling the wide space with their 
heavy perfume. Around, in semi-circular array, stood 
more than a hundred white-robed priests, who all turned 
to face the approaching princess, and sang heart-rend¬ 
ing songs of lamentation. 

Many of the inhabitants of the Necropolis had col¬ 
lected on either side of the lines of sphinxes, between 
which the princess drove up to the Sanctuary. But 

* Kyphi was a celebrated Egyptian incense. Recipes for its preparation 
have been preserved in the papyrus of Ebers, in the laboratories of the temples, 
and elsewhere. Parthey had three different varieties prepared by the chemist, 
L. Voigt, in Berlin. Kyphi after the formula of Dioskorides was the best. It 
consisted of rosin, wine, rad, galangae, juniper berries, the root of the 
aromatic rush, asphalte, mastic, myrrh, Burgundy grapes, and honey. 


UARDA. 


io 5 


none asked what these songs of lamentation might sig¬ 
nify, for about this sacred place lamentation and mystery 
for ever lingered. “Hail to the child of Raineses!” 
“All hail to the daughter of the Sun!” rang from a 
thousand throats; and the assembled multitude bowed 
almost to the earth at the approach of the royal 
maiden. 

At the pylon, the princess descended from her 
chariot, and preceded by the chief of the haruspices, 
who had gravely and silently greeted her, passed on to 
the door of the temple. But as she prepared to cross 
the forecourt, suddenly, without warning, the priests’ 
chant swelled to a terrible, almost thundering loudness, 
the clear, shrill voice of the Temple scholars rising in 
passionate lament, supported by the deep and threaten¬ 
ing roll of the basses. 

Bent-Anat started and checked her steps. Then 
she walked on again. 

But on the threshold of the door, Ameni, in full 
pontifical robes, stood before her in the w’ay, his crozier 
extended as though to forbid her entrance. 

“The advent of the daughter of Rameses in her 
purity,” he cried in loud and passionate tones, “augurs 
blessing to this sanctuary; but this abode of the Gods 
closes its portals on the unclean, be they slaves or 
princes. In the name of the Immortals, from whom thou 
art descended, I ask thee, Bent-Anat, art thou clean, 
or hast thou, through the touch of the unclean, defiled 
thyself and contaminated thy royal hand?” 

Deep scarlet flushed the maiden’s cheeks, there was 
a rushing sound in her ears as of a stormy sea surging 
close beside her, and her bosom rose and fell in pas¬ 
sionate emotion. The kingly blood in her veins boiled 
8 


UARDA. 


106 

wildly; she felt that an unworthy part had been assigned 
to her in a carefully-premeditated scene; she forgot 
her resolution to accuse herself of uncleanness, and 
already her lips were parted in vehement protest against 
the priestly assumption that so deeply stirred her to 
rebellion, when Ameni, who placed himself directly 
in front of the Princess, raised his eyes, and turned 
them full upon her with all the depths of their indwell¬ 
ing earnestness. 

The words died away, and Bent-Anat stood silent, 
but she endured the gaze, and returned it proudly and 
defiantly. 

The blue veins started in Ameni’s forehead; yet he 
repressed the resentment which was gathering like 
thunder clouds in his soul, and said, with a voice that 
gradually deviated more and more from its usual mod¬ 
eration : 

“For the second time the Gods demand through 
me, their representative: Hast thou entered this holy 
place in order that the Celestials may purge thee of 
the defilement that stains thy body and soul?” 

“My father will communicate the answer to thee,” 
replied Bent-Anat shortly and proudly. 

“ Not to me,” returned Ameni, “but to the Gods, in 
whose name I now command thee to quit this sanctu¬ 
ary, which is defiled by thy presence.” 

Bent-Anat’s whole form quivered. “ I will go,” she 
said with sullen dignity. 

She turned to recross the gateway of the Pylon. 
At the first step her glance met the eye of the poet. 

As one to whom it is vouchsafed to stand and gaze 
at some great prodigy; so Pentaur had stood opposite 
the royal maiden, uneasy and yet fascinated, agitated, 


UARDA. 


I07 

yet with secretly uplifted soul. Her deed seemed to 
him of boundless audacity, and yet one suited to her 
true and noble nature. By her side, Ameni, his revered 
and admired master, sank into insignificance; and when 
she turned to leave the temple, his hand was raised in¬ 
deed to hold her back, but as his glance met hers, his 
hand refused its office, and sought instead to still the 
throbbing of his overflowing heart. 

The experienced priest, meanwhile, read the features 
of these two guileless beings like an open book. A 
quickly-formed tie, he felt, linked their souls, and the 
look which he saw them exchange startled him. The 
rebellious princess had glanced at the poet as though 
claiming approbation for her triumph, and Pentaur’s 
eyes had responded to the appeal. 

One instant Ameni paused. Then he cried: “Bent- 
Anat!” 

The princess turned to the priest, and looked at 
him gravely and enquiringly. 

Ameni took a step forward, and stood between her 
and the poet. 

“Thou wouldst challenge the Gods to combat,” he 
said sternly. “That is bold; but such daring it seems 
to me has grown up in thee because thou canst count 
on an ally, who stands scarcely farther from the Im¬ 
mortals than I myself. Hear this:—to thee, the mis¬ 
guided child, much may be forgiven. But a servant of 
the Divinity,” and with these words he turned a threaten¬ 
ing glance on Pentaur—“a priest, who in the war of 
free-will against law becomes a deserter, who forgets 
his duty and his oath—he will not long stand beside 
thee to support thee, for he—even though every God 


io8 


UARDA. 


had blessed him with the richest gifts—he is damned. 
We drive him from among us, we curse him, we—” 

At these words Bent-Anat looked now at Ameni, 
trembling with excitement, now at Pentaur standing 
opposite to her. Her face was red and white by turns, 
as light and shade chase each other on the ground when 
at noon-day a palm-grove is stirred by a storm. 

The poet took a step towards her. 

She felt that if he spoke it would be to defend all 
that she had done, and to ruin himself. A deep 
sympathy, a nameless anguish seized her soul, and 
before Pentaur could open his lips, she had sunk slowly 
down before Ameni, saying in low tones: 

“ I have sinned and defiled myself; thou hast said 
it—as Pentaur said it by the hut of the paraschites. 
Restore me to cleanness, Ameni, for I am unclean.” 

Like a flame that is crushed out by a hand, so the 
fire in the high-priest’s eye was extinguished. Gracious¬ 
ly, almost lovingly, he looked down on the princess, 
blessed her and conducted her before the holy of holies, 
there had clouds of incense wafted round her, anointed 
her with the nine holy oils, and commanded her to re¬ 
turn to the royal castle. 

Yet, said he, her guilt was not expiated; she should 
shortly learn by what prayers and exercises she might 
attain once more to perfect purity before the Gods, 
of whom he purposed to enquire in the holy place. 

During all these ceremonies the priests stationed in 
the forecourt continued their lamentations. 

The people standing before the temple listened to the 
priest’s chant, and interrupted it from time to time with 
ringing cries of wailing, for already a dark rumor of 


UARDA. 


I09 

what was going on within had spread among the mul¬ 
titude. 

The sun was going down. The visitors to the 
Necropolis must soon be leaving it, and Bent-Anat, for 
whose appearance the people impatiently waited, would 
not show herself. One and another said the princess 
had been cursed, because she had taken remedies to 
the fair and injured Uarda, who was known to many 
of them. 

Among the curious who had flocked together were 
many embalmers, laborers, and humble folk, who lived 
in the Necropolis. The mutinous and refractory tem¬ 
per of the Egyptians, which brought such heavy suffer¬ 
ing on them under their later foreign rulers, was 
aroused, and rising with every minute. They reviled 
the pride of the priests, and their senseless, worthless, 
institutions. A drunken soldier, who soon reeled back 
into the tavern which he had but just left, distinguished 
himself as ringleader, and was the first to pick up a 
heavy stone to fling at the huge brass-plated temple- 
gates. A few boys followed his example with shouts, 
and law-abiding men even, urged by the clamor of 
fanatical women, let themselves be led away to stone- 
flinging and words of abuse. 

Within the House of Seti the priests’ chant went 
on uninterruptedly; but at last, when the noise of the 
crowd grew louder, the great gate was thrown open, 
and with a solemn step Ameni, in full robes, and fol¬ 
lowed by twenty pastophori * who bore images of the 
Gods and holy symbols on their shoulders—Ameni 
walked into the midst of the crowd. 

All were silent. 


* An order of priests. 


no 


UARDA. 


“Wherefore do you disturb our worship ?” he asked 
loudly and calmly. 

A roar of confused cries answered him, in which 
the frequently repeated name of Bent-Anat could alone 
be distinguished. 

Ameni preserved his immoveable composure, and, 
raising his crozier, he cried— 

“Make way for the daughter of Rameses, who 
sought and has found purification from the Gods, who 
behold the guilt of the highest as of the lowest among 
you. They reward the pious, but they punish the 
offender. Kneel down and let us pray that they may 
forgive you, and bless both you and your children.” 

Ameni took the holy Sistrum* from one of the at¬ 
tendant pastophori, and held it on high; the priests 
behind him raised a solemn hymn, and the crowd sank 
on their knees ; nor did they move till the chant ceased 
and the high-priest again cried out: 

“The Immortals bless you by me their servant. 
Leave this spot and make way for the daughter of 
Rameses.” 

With these words he withdrew into the temple, 
and the patrol, without meeting with any opposition, 
cleared the road guarded by Sphinxes which led to 
the Nile. 

As Bent-Anat mounted her chariot Ameni said: 

“Thou art the child of kings. The house of thy 

* A rattling metal instrument used by the Egyptians in the service of the 
Gods. Many specimens are extant in Museums. Plutarch describes it cor¬ 
rectly, thus: “The Sistrum is rounded above, and the loop holds the four bars 
which are shaken. On the bend of the Sistrum they often set the head of a 
cat with a human face: below the four little bars, on one side is the face of 
Isis, on the other that of Nephthys.” The cat head is seen on a bronze Sistrum 
in the Berlin Museum; on other examples we find at the upper end of the 
handle the usual mask of Hathor. In the sanctuary of this Goddess at Dendera 
the image of the holy Sistrum was thrown into great prominence. 


b aRDA. 


Ill 


father rests on the shoulders of the people. Loosen 
the old laws which hold them subject, and the people 
will conduct themselves like these fools.” 

Ameni retired. Bent-Anat slowly arranged the reins 
in her hand, her eyes resting the while on the poet, 
who, leaning against a door-post, gazed at her in 
beatitude. She let her whip fall to the ground, that he 
might pick it up and restore it to her, but he did not 
observe it. A runner sprang forward and handed it 
to the princess, whose horses started off, tossing them¬ 
selves and neighing. 

Pentaur remained as if spell-bound, standing by 
the pillar, till the rattle of the departing wheels on 
the flag-way of the Avenue of Sphinxes had altogether 
died away, and the reflection of the glowing sunset 
painted the eastern hills with soft and rosy hues. 

The far-sounding clang of a brass gong roused the 
poet from his ecstasy. It was the tomtom calling him 
to duty, to the lecture on rhetoric which at this hour 
he had to deliver to the young priests. He laid his 
left hand to his heart, and pressed his right hand to 
his forehead, as if to'collect in its grasp his wandering 
thoughts; then silently and mechanically he went to¬ 
wards the open court in which his disciples awaited 
him. But instead of, as usual, considering on the way 
the subject he was to treat, his spirit and heart were 
occupied with the occurrences of the last few hours. 
One image reigned supreme in his imagination, filling it 
with delight—it was that of the fairest woman, who, 
radiant in her royal dignity and trembling with pride, 
had thrown herself in the dust for his sake. He felt as 
if her action had invested her whole being with a new 
and princely worth, as if her glance had brought light 


112 


UARDA. 


to his inmost soul, he seemed to breathe a freer air, 
to be borne onward on winged feet. 

In such a mood he appeared before his hearers. 

When he found himself confronting all the the well- 
known faces, he remembered what it was he was 
called upon to do. He supported himself against the 
wall of the court, and opened the papyrus-roll handed 
to him by his favorite pupil, the young Anana. It 
was the book which twenty-four hours ago he had 
promised to begin upon. He looked now upon the 
characters that covered it, and felt that he was unable 
to read a word. 

With a powerful effort he collected himself, and 
looking upwards tried to find the thread he had cut 
at the end of yesterday’s lecture, and intended to re¬ 
sume to-day; but between yesterday and to-day, as it 
seemed to him, lay a vast sea whose roaring surges 
stunned his memory and powers of thought. 

His scholars, squatting cross-legged on reed mats 
before him, gazed in astonishment on their silent 
master who was usually so ready of speech, and looked 
enquiringly at each other. A young priest whispered 
to his neighbor, “He is praying—” and Anana 
noticed with silent anxiety the strong hand of his 
teacher clutching the manuscript so tightly that the 
slight material of which it consisted threatened to 
split. 

At last Pentaur looked down; he had found a 
subject. While he was looking upwards his gaze fell 
on the opposite wall, and the painted name of the 
king with the accompanying title “the good God” met 
his eye. Starting from these words he put this question 


UARDA. 


”3 


to his hearers, “ How do we apprehend the Goodness 
of the Divinity?” 

He challenged one priest after another to treat this 
subject as if he were standing before his future con¬ 
gregation. 

Several disciples rose, and spoke with more or less 
truth and feeling. At last it came to An ana’s turn, 
who, in well-chosen words, praised the purpose-full 
beauty of animate and inanimate creation, in which 
the goodness of Amon, # of Ra, # * and Ptah, ## * as well 
as of the other Gods, finds expression. 

Pentaur listened to the youth with folded arms, 
now looking at him enquiringly, now adding approba¬ 
tion. Then taking up the thread of the discourse 
when it was ended, he began himself to speak. 

Like obedient falcons at the call of the falconer, 

f 

* Amon, that is to say, “the hidden one.” He was the God of Thebes, which 
was under his aegis, and after the Hyksos were expelled from the Nile-valley, 
he was united with Ra of Heliopolis and endowed with the attributes of all the 
remaining Gods. His nature was more and more spiritualized, till in the esoteric 
philosophy of the time of the Rameses he is compared to the All-filling and All- 
guiding intelligence. He is “the husband of his mother, his own father, and 
his own son,” As the living Osiris, he is the soul and spirit of all creation, 
which first enters on a higher order of existence through him. He was “benev¬ 
olent,” “beautiful,” “without equal,” and also was called the “annihilator 
of evil”—by which man expressed his reverence for the hidden power which 
raises the good, and overthrows the wicked. He is recognized by the tall 
double plume on his crown. He was represented with a ram’s head as 
Amon Chnem. 

** Ra, originally the Sun-God; later his name was introduced into the 
pantheistic mystic philosophy for that of the God who is the Universe. 

*** Ptah is the Greek Hephaistos, the oldest of the Gods, the great maker 
of the material for the creation, the “first beginner,” by whose side the seven 
Chnemu stand, as architects, to help him, and who was named “ the lord of 
truth,” because the laws and conditions of being proceeded from him. He 
created also the germ of light, he stood therefore at the head of the solar Gods, 
and was called the creator of ice, from which, when he had cleft it, the sun 
and the moon came forth. Hence his name “the opener.” Memphis was the 
centre of his worship, Apis his sacred animal. In the mysteries of the under¬ 
world, and of immortality he appears usually under the name of Ptah Sokar 
Osiris, who grants to the setting sun the power to rise again, as to the dead, 
the power of resurrection. 


UARDA. 


114 

thoughts rushed down into his mind, and the divine 
passion awakened in his breast glowed and shone 
through his inspired language that soared every mo¬ 
ment on freer and stronger wings. Melting into pathos, 
exulting in rapture, he praised the splendor of nature; 
and the words flowed from his lips like a limpid 
crystal-clear stream as he glorified the eternal order of 
things, and the incomprehensible wisdom and care of 
the Creator—the One, who is one alone, and great and 
without equal. 

“So incomparable,” he said in. conclusion, “is the 
home which God has given us. All that He—the One 
—has created is penetrated with His own essence, and 
bears witness to His Goodness. He who knows how to 
find Him sees Him everywhere, and lives at every in¬ 
stant in the enjoyment of His glory. Seek Him, and 
when ye have found Him fall down and sing praises 
before Him. But praise the Highest, not only in grati¬ 
tude for the splendor of that which he has created, 
but for having given us the capacity for delight in his 
work. Ascend the mountain peaks and look on the 
distant country, worship when the sunset glows with 
rubies, and the dawn with roses, go out in the night¬ 
time, and look at the stars as they travel in eternal, 
unerring, immeasurable, and endless circles on silver 
barks through the blue vault of heaven, stand by the 
cradle of the child, by the buds of the flowers, and 
see how the mother bends over the one, and the 
bright dew-drops fall on the other. But would you 
know where the stream of divine goodness is most 
freely poured out, where the grace of the Creator be¬ 
stows the richest gifts, and where His holiest altars 
are prepared? In your own heart; so long as it is 


UARDA. 


1 r 5 


pure and full of love. In such a heart, nature is 
reflected as in a magic mirror, on whose surface the 
Beautiful shines in three-fold beauty. There the eye 
can reach far away over stream, and meadow, and hill, 
and take in the whole circle of the earth; there the 
morning and evening-red shine, not like roses and 
rubies, but like the very cheeks of the Goddess of 
Beauty; there the stars circle on, not in silence, but 
with the mighty voices of the pure eternal harmonies 
of heaven; there the child smiles like an infant-god, 
and the bud unfolds to magic flowers; finally, there 
thankfulness grows broader and devotion grows deeper, 
and we throw ourselves into the arms of a God, who 
—as I imagine his glory—is a God to whom the 
sublime nine great Gods pray as miserable and help¬ 
less suppliants.” 

The tomtom which announced the end of the hour 
interrupted him. 

Pentaur ceased speaking with a deep sigh, and for 
a minute not a scholar moved. 

At last the poet laid the papyrus roll out of his 
hand, wiped the sweat from his hot brow, and walked 
slowly towards the gate of the court, which led into 
the sacred grove of the temple. He had hardly crossed 
the threshold when he felt a hand laid upon his 
shoulder. 

He looked round. Behind him stood Ameni. 

“You fascinated your hearers, my friend,” said the 
high-priest, coldly; “it is a pity that only the harp was 
wanting.” 

Ameni’s words fell on the agitated spirit of the 
poet like ice on the breast of a man in fever. He 
knew this tone in his master’s voice, for thus he was 


UARDA. 


116 

accustomed to reprove bad scholars and erring priests; 
but to him he had never yet so spoken. 

“It certainly would seem,” continued the high- 
priest, bitterly, “as if in your intoxication you had 
forgotten what it becomes the teacher to utter in the 
lecture-hall. Only a few weeks since you swore on my 
hands to guard the mysteries, and this day you have 
offered the great secret of the Unnameable one, the 
most sacred posession of the initiated, like some cheap 
w r are in the open market.” 

“Thou cuttest with knives,” said Pentaur. 

“May they prove sharp, and extirpate the un¬ 
developed canker, the rank weed from your soul,” cried 
the high-priest. “You are young, too young; not like 
the tender fruit-tree that lets itself be trained aright, 
and brought to perfection, but like the green fruit on 
the ground, which will turn to poison for the children 
wdio pick it up—yea even though it fall from a sacred 
tree. Gagabu and I received you among us, against 
the opinion of the majority of the initiated. We 
* gainsaid all those who doubted your ripeness because 
of your youth; and you swore to me, gratefully and 
enthusiastically, to guard the mysteries and the law. 
To-day for the first time I set you on the battle-field 
of life beyond the peaceful shelter of the schools. And 
how have you defended the standard that it was in¬ 
cumbent on you to uphold and maintain ? ” 

“I did that which seemed to me to be right and 
true,” answered Pentaur deeply moved. 

“Right is the same for you as for us—what the 
law prescribes; and what is truth?” 

“None has lifted her veil,” said Pentaur, “but my 
soul is the offspring of the soul-filled body of the All; 


UARDA. 


117 

a portion of the infallible spirit of the Divinity stirs in 
my breast, and if it shows itself potent in me—” 

“How easily we may mistake the flattering voice 
of self-love for that of the Divinity!” 

“ Cannot the Divinity which works and speaks in 
me—as in thee—as in each of us—recognize himself 
and his own voice?” 

“If the crowd were to hear you,” Ameni interrupted 
him, “each would set himself on his ’little throne, 
would proclaim the voice of the god within him as 
his guide, tear the law to shreds, and let the frag¬ 
ments fly to the desert on the east wind.” 

“ I am one of the elect whom thou thyself hast 
taught to seek and to find the One. The light which 
I gaze on and am blest, would strike the crowd—I do 
not deny it—with blindness—” 

“And nevertheless you blind our disciples with the 
dangerous glare—” 

“I am educating them for future sages.” 

“And that with the hot overflow of a heart in¬ 
toxicated with love!” 

“Ameni!” 

“I stand before you, uninvited, as your teacher, 
who reproves you out of the law, which always 
and everywhere is wiser than the individual, whose 
‘defender’ the king—among his highest titles—boasts 
of being, and to which the sage bows as much as the 
common man whom we bring up to blind belief—I 
stand before you as your father, who has loved you 
from a child, and expected from none of his disciples 
more than from you; and who will therefore neither 
lose you nor abandon the hope he has set upon 
you— 


UARDA. 


Il8 


“ Make ready to leave our quiet house early to¬ 
morrow morning. You have forfeited your office of 
teacher. You shall now go into the school of life, and 
make yourself fit for the honored rank of the initiated 
which, by my error, was bestowed on you too soon. 
You must leave your scholars without any leave-tak¬ 
ing, however hard it may appear to you. After the 
star of Sothis* has risen come for your instructions. 
You must in these next months try to lead the priest¬ 
hood in the temple of Hatasu, and in that post to 
win back my confidence which you have thrown away. 
No remonstrance; to-night you will receive my bless¬ 
ing, and our authority—you must greet the rising sun 
from the terrace of the new scene of your labors. 
May the Unnameable stamp the law upon your soul!” 


Ameni returned to his room. 

He walked restlessly to and fro. 

On a little table lay a mirror; he looked into the 
clear metal pane, and laid it back in its place again, 
as if he had seen some strange and displeasing coun¬ 
tenance. 

The events of the last few hours had moved him 
deeply, and shaken his confidence in his unerring judg¬ 
ment of men and things. 

The priests on the other bank of the Nile were 
Bent-Anat’s counsellors, and he had heard the princess 
spoken of as a devout and gifted maiden. Her in¬ 
cautious breach of the sacred institutions had seemed 


* The holy star of Isis, Sirius or the dog star, whose course in the time of 
the Pharaohs coincided with the exact Solar year, and served at a very early 
date as a foundation for the reckoning of time among the Egyptians. 


UARDA. 


TI 9 

to him to offer a welcome opportunity for humiliating - 
a member of the royal family. 

Now he told himself that he had undervalued this 
young creature, that he had behaved clumsily, perhaps 
foolishly, to her; for he did not for a moment conceal 
from himself that her sudden change of demeanor 
resulted much more from the warm flow of her sym¬ 
pathy, or perhaps of her affection, than from any 
recognition of her guilt, and he could not utilize her 
transgression with safety to himself, unless she felt her¬ 
self guilty. 

Nor was he of so great a nature as to be wholly 
free from vanity, and his vanity had been deeply 
wounded by the haughty resistance of the princess. 

When he commanded Pentaur to meet the princess 
with words of reproof, he had hoped to awaken his 
ambition through the proud sense of power over the 
mighty ones of the earth. 

And now? 

How had his gifted admirer, the most hopeful of 
all his disciples, stood the test. 

The one ideal of his life, the unlimited dominion 
of the priestly idea over the minds of men, and of 
the priesthood over the king himself, had hitherto 
remained unintelligible to this singular young man. 

He must learn to understand it. 

“ Here, as the least among a hundred who are his 
superiors, all the powers of resistance of his soaring 
soul have been roused,” said Ameni to himself. “In 
the temple of Hatasu he will have to rule over the 
inferior orders of slaughterers of victims and incense- 
burners; and, by requiring obedience, will learn to 


120 


UARDA. 


estimate the necessity of it. The rebel, to whom a 
throne devolves, becomes a tyrant!” 

“Pentuar’s poet soul,” so he continued to reflect 
“has quickly yielded itself a prisoner to the charm of 
Bent-Anat; and what woman could resist this highly- 
favored being, who is radiant in beauty as Ra-Har- 
machis, and from whose lips flows speech as sweet as 
Techuti’s * They ought never to meet again, for no tie 
must bind him to the house of Rameses.” 

Again he paced to and fro, and murmured: 

“How is this? Two of my disciples have towered 
above their fellows, in genius and gifts, like palm trees 
above their undergrowth. I brought them up to suc¬ 
ceed me, to inherit my labors and my hopes. 

“Mesu** fell away; and Pentaur may follow him. 

“ Must my aim be an unworthy one because it does 
not attract the noblest? Not so. Each feels himself 
made of better stuff than his companions in destiny, 
constitutes his own law, and fears to see the great ex¬ 
pended in trifles; but I think otherwise; like a brook 
of ferruginous water from Lebanon, I mix with the 
great stream, and tinge it with my color.” 

Thinking thus Ameni stood still. 

Then he called to one of the so-called “holy fathers,” 
his private secretary, and said : 

“ Draw up at once a document, to be sent to all the 
priests’-colleges in the land. Inform them that the 
daughter of Rameses has lapsed seriously from the law, 
and defiled herself, and direct that public—you hear 
me public —prayers shall be put up for her purification 

* Thoth-Hermes. 

** Mesu is the Egyptian name of Moses, whom we may consider as a con¬ 
temporary of Rameses, under whose successor the exodus of the Jews from 
Egypt took place. 


UARDA. 


12 I 


in every temple. Lay the letter before me to be signed 
within an hour. But no! Give me your reed and 
palette; I will myself draw up the instructions.” 

The “ holy father ” gave him writing materials, and 
retired into the background. Ameni muttered : “ The 

King will do us some unheard-of violence ! Well, this 
writing may be the first arrow in opposition to his lance.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

The moon was risen over the city of the living that 
lay opposite the Necropolis of Thebes. 

The evening song had died away in the temples, 
that stood about a mile from the Nile, connected with 
each other by avenues of sphinxes and pylons; but in 
the streets of the city life seemed only just really awake. 

The coolness, which had succeeded the heat of the 
summer day, tempted the citizens out into the air, in 
front of their doors or on the roofs and turrets of their 
nouses; or at the tavern-tables, where they listened to 
the tales of the story-tellers while they refreshed them 
selves with beer, wine, and the sweet juice of fruits. 
Many simple folks squatted in circular groups on the 
ground, and joined in the burden of songs which were led 
by an appointed singer, to the sound of a tabor and flute. 

To the south of the temple of Amon stood the 
king’s palace, and near it, in more or less extensive 
gardens, rose the houses of the magnates of the king¬ 
dom, among which, one was distinguished by it splendor 
and extent. 

Paaker, the king’s pioneer, had caused it to be 
erected after the death of his father, in the place of the 
9 


122 


UARDA. 


more homely dwelling of his ancestors, when he hoped 
to bring home his cousin, and install her as its mistress. 

A few yards further to the east was another stately 
though older and less splendid house, which Mena, 
the king’s charioteer, had inherited from his father, 
and which was inhabited by his wife Nefert and her 
mother Katuti, while he himself, in the distant Syrian 
land, shared the tent of the king, as being his body-guard. 

Before the door of each house stood servants bear¬ 
ing torches, and awaiting the long deferred return home 
of their masters. 

The gate, which gave admission to Paaker’s plot of 
ground through the wall which surrounded it, was 
disproportionately, almost ostentatiously, high and dec¬ 
orated with various paintings. On the right hand 
and on the left, two cedar-trunks were erected as masts 
to carry standards; he had had them felled for the 
purpose on Lebanon, and forwarded by ship to Pelu- 
sium on the north-east coast of Egypt. Thence they 
were conveyed by the Nile to Thebes. 

On passing through the gate one entered a wide, 
paved court-yard,* at the sides of which walks ex¬ 
tended, closed in at the back, and with roofs supported 
on slender painted wooden columns. Here stood the 
pioneer’s horses and chariots, here dwelt his slaves, and 
here the necessary store of produce for the month’s re¬ 
quirements was kept. 


* The Mohar’s heritage is described from the beautiful pictures of gardens 
and houses in the tombs of Tel el Amarna (represented in Lepsius’ monuments of 
Egypt.) To own a garden was considered particularly lucky. In the Papyrus 
IV. from P>ulaq, published by Mariette, the author desires to show that every 
earthly possession leads to satiety, and chooses as an example the house with a 
garden. You have, he says, a well-watered piece of ground. You have sur¬ 
rounded your garden with hedges, and planted sycamores, arranging them on 
the land about your house. You can fill your hand with all the flower your eyes 
behold, yet it will happen that you will finally weary of them. 


UARDA. 


123 


In the farther wall of this store-court was a very 
high doorway, that led into a large garden with rows 
of well-tended trees and trellised vines, clumps of 
shrubs, flowers, and beds of vegetables. Palms, syca¬ 
mores, and acacia-trees, figs, pomegranates, and jasmine 
throve here particularly well—for Paaker’s mother, Set- 
chem, superintended the labors of the gardeners; and 
in the large tank in the midst there was never any 
lack of water for watering the beds and the roots of 
the trees, as it was always supplied by two canals, 
into which wheels turned by oxen poured water day 
and night from the Nile-stream. 

On the right side of this plot of ground rose the 
one-storied dwelling house, its length stretching into 
distant perspective, as it consisted of a single row of 
living and bedrooms. Almost every room had its own 
door, that opened into a veranda supported by colored 
wooden columns, and which extended the whole length 
of the garden side of the house. This building was 
joined at a right angle by a row of store-rooms, in 
which the garden-produce in fruits and vegetables, the 
wine-jars, and the possessions of the house in woven 
stuffs, skins, leather, and other property were kept. 

In a chamber of strong masonry lay safely locked up 
the vast riches accumulated by Paaker’s father and by 
himself, in gold and silver rings, vessels and figures of 
beasts. Nor was there lack of bars of copper and of 
precious stones, particularly of lapis-lazuli and malachite. 

In the middle of the garden stood a handsomely 
decorated kiosk, and a chapel with images of the Gods ; 
in the background stood the statues of Paaker’s ancestors 
in the form of Osiris wrapped in mummy-cloths.* The 

* The justified dead became Osiris; that is to say, attained to the fullest 
union (Henosis) with the divinity. The Osiris-myth has been restored in all 


124 


UARDA. 


faces, which were likenesses, alone distinguished these 
statues from each other. 

The left side of the store-yard was veiled in gloom, 
yet the moonlight revealed numerous dark figures clothed 
only with aprons, the slaves of the king’s pioneer, who 
squatted on the ground in groups of five or six, or lay 
near each other on thin mats of palm-bast, their hard beds. 

Not far from the gate, on the right side of the court, 
a few lamps lighted up a group of dusky men, the of¬ 
ficers of Paaker’s household, who wore short, shirt¬ 
shaped, white garments, and who sat on a carpet round 
a table hardly two feet high. They w r ere eating their 
evening-meal, consisting of a roasted antelope, and large 
flat cakes of bread. Slaves waited on them, and filled 
their earthen beakers with yellow beer. The steward 
cut up the great roast on the table, offered the intendant 
of the gardens a piece of antelope-leg, and said :* 

its parts from the literary remains of th- Egyptians. Plutarch records it in de¬ 
tail. Omitting minor matters it is as follows. Isis and Osiris reigned blissful 
and benignant in the Nile valley ; Typhon (Seth) induced Osiris to lay himself 
in a chest, locked it with his 70 companions, and set it on the Nile, which carried 
it north, to the sea. It was cast on shore at Byblos. Isis sought it lamenting, 
found it, and brought it back to Egypt. While she was seeking for her son 
Plorus, Typhon found the body, cut it into fourteen parts, and strewed them 
throughout the land. Horus having meanwhile grown up, fights with Typhon, 
and conquers him, and restores to his mother her husband, and to his father— 
who during his apparent death had continued to reign in the under-world—his 
earthly throne. This fanciful myth personified not only the cycle of the vegeta¬ 
tive life of the earth, but also the path of the sun, and the fate of the human soul. 
The procreative power of nature, and the overflow of the Nile come from drought, 
the light of the sun from darkness; man passes through death to life, the prin¬ 
ciple of good comes from evil. Truth appears to be destroyed by Lies ; yet each 
triumphs in the spring (the time of the inundations)—in the morning—in the 
other world—or in the day of retribution—as Osiris conquered through Horus. 

* The Greeks and Romans report that the Egyptians were so addicted to 
satire and pungent witticisms, that they would hazard property and life to gratify 
their love of mockery. The scandalous pictures in the so-called kiosk of Medinet 
Habu, the caricatures in an indescribable papyrus at Turin, confirm these state¬ 
ments. There is a noteworthy passage in Flavius Vopiscus, that compares the 
Egyptians to the French, and which we think it advisable to quote here: 

“ Suntenim Aegyptii, tit satis nosti, uin uentosi furibundi iactantes iniuriosi 
atque adeo uani Iiberi nouarum rerum usque ad cantilenas publicas cupientes 
uersificatores epigrammatarii mathematici haruspices medici. Flav. Vopiscus ed. 
Peter II. p. 208, c. 7." 


UARDA. 


125 


“ My arms ache; the mob of slaves get more and 
more dirty and refractory.” 

“ I notice it in the palm-trees,” said the gardener, 
“ you want so many cudgels that their crowns will soon 
be as bare as a moulting bird.” 

“ We should do as the master does,” said the head- 
groom, “ and get sticks of ebony—they last a hundred 
years.” 

“At any rate longer than men’s bones,” laughed 
the chief neat-herd, who had come in to town from 
the pioneer’s country estate, bringing with him animals 
for sacrifices, butter and cheese. “ If we were all to 
follow the master’s example, we should soon have none 
but cripples in the servant’s house.” 

“ Out there lies the lad whose collar-bone he 
broke yesterday,” said the steward, “ it is a pity, for 
he was a clever mat-plaiter. The old lord hit softer.” 

“You ought to know!” cried a small voice, that 
sounded mockingly behind the feasters. 

They looked and laughed when they recognized 
the strange guest, who had approached them unob¬ 
served. 

The new comer was a deformed little man about 
as big as a five-year-old boy, with a big head and 
oldish but uncommonly sharply-cut features. 

The noblest Egyptians kept house-dwarfs for sport, 
and this little wight served the wife of Mena in this 
capacity. He was called Nemu, or “ the dwarf,” and 
his sharp tongue made him much feared, though he 
was a favorite, for he passed for a very clever 
fellow and was a good tale-teller. 

“ Make room for me, my lords,” said the little 
man. “ I take very little room, and your beer and 


126 


VARDA. 


roast is in little danger from me, for my maw is no 
bigger than a fly’s head.” 

“ But your gall is as big as that of a Nile-horse,” 
cried the cook. 

“ It grows,” said the dwarf laughing, “ when a 
turn-spit and spoon-wielder like you turns up. There— 
I will sit here.” 

“You are welcome,” said the steward, “what do 
you bring ?” 

“ Myself.” 

“ Then you bring nothing great.” 

“ Else I should not suit you either!” retorted the 
dwarf. “ But seriously, my lady mother, the noble 
Katuti, and the Regent, who just now is visiting us, 
sent me here to ask you whether Paaker is not yet 
returned. He accompanied the princess and Nefert 
to the City of the Dead, and the ladies are not yet 
come in. We begin to be anxious, for it is already 
late.” 

The steward looked up at the starry sky and 
said: “ The moon is already tolerably high, and my 
lord meant to be home before sun-down.” 

“ The meal was ready,” sighed the cook. “ I shall 
have to go to work again if he does not remain out 
all night.” 

“ How should he ?” asked the steward. “ He is 
with the princess Bent-Anat.” 

“And my mistress,” added the dwarf. 

“What will they say to each other,” laughed the 
gardener; “ your chief litter-bearer declared that yester¬ 
day on the way to the City of the Dead they did not 
speak a word to each other.” 

“ Can you blame the lord if he is angry with the 


UARDA. 


127 


lady who was betrothed to him, and then was wed to 
another ? When I think of the moment when he 
learnt Nefert’s breach of faith I turn hot and cold.” 

“ Care the less for that,” sneered the dwarf, “ since 
you must be hot in summer and cold in winter.” 

“ It is not evening all day,” cried the head groom. 
“ Paaker never forgets an injury, and we shall live to 
see him pay Mena—high as he is--for the affront 
he has offered him. 

“My lady Katuti,” interrupted Nemu, “stores up 
the arrears of her son-in-law.” 

“ Besides, she has long wished to renew the old 
friendship with your house, and the Regent too 
preaches peace. Give me a piece of bread, steward. 
I am hungry!” 

“ The sacks, into which Mena’s arrears flow, seem 
to be empty,” laughed the cook. 

“ Empty! empty! much like your wit!” answered 
the dwarf. “ Give me a bit of roast meat, steward; 
and you slaves bring me a drink of beer.” 

“You just now said your maw was no bigger than 
a fly’s head,” cried the cook, “ and now you devour 
meat like the crocodiles in the sacred tank of Seeland.* ** 
You must come from a w r orld of upside-down, where 
the men are as small as flies, and the flies as big as 
the giants of the past.” 

“ Yet, I might be much bigger,” mumbled the 
dwarf while he munched on unconcernedly, “ perhaps 
as big as your spite which grudges me the third bit of 
meat, which the steward—may Zefa* # bless him with 


* The modem Fayoum, where, in the temple of the God Sebek, sacred, 
crocodiles were kept and decorated, and expensively fed. 

** Zefa, the goddess of the inundation. 


128 


UARDA. 


great possessions!—is cutting out of the back of the 
antelope.” 

“ There, take it, you glutton, but let out your girdle,” 
said the steward laughing, “ I had cut the slice for 
myself, and admire your sharp nose.” 

“Ah noses,” said the dwarf, “they teach the know¬ 
ing better than any haruspex what is inside a man.” 

“ How is that ?” cried the gardener. 

“Only try to display your wisdom,” laughed the 
steward; for, if you want to talk, you must at last 
leave off eating.” 

“ The two may be combined,” said the dwarf. 
“ Listen then ! A hooked nose, which I compare to a 
vulture’s beak, is never found together with a sub¬ 
missive spirit. Think of the Pharaoh and all his 
haughty race. The Regent, on the contrary, has a 
straight, well-shaped, medium-sized nose, like the 
statue of Amon in the temple, and he is an upright 
soul, and as good as the Gods. He is neither over¬ 
bearing nor submissive beyond just what is right; he 
holds neither with the great nor yet with the mean, 
but with men of our stamp. There’s the king 
for us!” 

“A king of noses!” exclaimed the cook, “I prefer 
the eagle Rameses. But what do you say to the nose 
of your mistress Nefert?” 

“ It is delicate and slender and moves with every 
thought like the leaves of flowers in a breath of wind, 
and her heart is exactly like it.” 

“And Paaker?” asked the head groom. 

“ He has a large short nose with wide open nostrils. 
When Seth whirls up the sand, and a grain of it flies 


UARDA. 


129 


up his nose, he waxes angry—so it is Paaker’s nose, 
and that only, which is answerable for all your blue 
bruises. His mother Setchem, the sister of my lady 
Katuti, has a little roundish soft—” 

“You pigmy,” cried the steward interrupting the 
speaker, “ we have fed you and let you abuse people 
to your heart’s content, but if you wag your sharp 
tongue against our mistress, I will take you by the 
girdle and fling you to the sky, so that the stars may 
remain sticking to your crooked hump.” 

At these words the dwarf rose, turned to go, and 
said indifferently: “ I would pick the stars carefully 
off my back, and send you the finest of the planets 
in return for your juicy bit of roast. But here come 
the chariots. Farewell! my lords, when the vulture’s 
beak seizes one of you and carries you off to the war 
in Syria, remember the words of the little Nemu who 
knows men and noses.” 

The pioneer’s chariot rattled through the high 
gates into the court of his house, the dogs in their 
leashes howled joyfully, the head groom hastened 
towards Paaker and took the reins in his charge, the 
steward accompanied him, and the head cook retired 
into the kitchen to make ready a fresh meal for his 
master. 

Before Paaker had reached the garden-gate, from 
the pylon of the enormous temple of Amon, was heard 
first the far-sounding clang of hard-struck plates of 
brass, and then the many-voiced chant of a solemn 
hymn. 

The Mohar stood still, looked up to heaven, called 


UARDA_ 


130 

to his servants—“ The divine star Sothis is risen l" 
threw himself on the earth, and lifted his arms to¬ 
wards the star in prayer. 

The slaves and officers immediately followed his 
example. 

No circumstance in nature remained unobserved 
by the priestly guides of the Egyptian people. Every 
phenomenon on earth or in the starry heavens was 
greeted by them as the manifestation of a divinity, 
and they surrounded the life of the inhabitants of the 
Nile-valley—from morning to evening—from the be¬ 
ginning of the inundation to the days of drought—with 
a web of chants and sacrifices, of processions and 
festivals, which inseparably knit the human individual 
to the Divinity and its earthly representatives the 
priesthood. 

For many minutes the lord and his servants re¬ 
mained on their knees in silence, their eyes fixed on 
the sacred star, and listening to the pious chant of 
the priests. 

As -it died away Paaker rose. All around him 
still lay on the earth; only one naked figure, strongly 
lighted by the clear moonlight, stood motionless by a 
pillar near the slaves’ quarters. 

The pioneer gave a sign, the attendants rose; but 
Paaker went with hasty steps to the man who had 
disdained the act of devotion, which he had so earn¬ 
estly performed, and cried: 

“ Steward, a hundred strokes on the soles of the 
feet of this scoffer.’’ 

The officer thus addressed bowed and said: “ My 
lord, the surgeon commanded the mat-weaver not to 


UARDA. 


T 3 I 

move, and he cannot lift his arm. He is suffering 
great pain. Thou didst break his collar-bone yester¬ 
day.” 

“ It served him right!” said Paaker, raising his voice 
so much that the injured man could not fail to hear it. 
Then he turned his back upon him, and entered the 
garden; here he called the chief butler, and said: “Give 
the slaves beer for their night draught—to all of them, 
and plenty.” 

A few minutes later he stood before his mother, 
whom he found on the roof of the house, which was 
decorated with leafy plants, just as she gave her two- 
years’-old grand daughter, the child of her youngest son, 
into the arms of her nurse, that she might take her 
to bed. 

Paaker greeted the worthy matron with reverence. 

She was a woman of a friendly, homely aspect; 
several little dogs were fawning at her feet. Her son 
put aside the leaping favorites of the widow, whom 
they amused through many long hours of loneliness, 
and turned to take the child in his arms from those of 
the attendant. But the little one struggled with such 
loud cries, and could not be pacified, that Paaker set it 
down on the ground, and involuntarily exclaimed: 

“The naughty little thing!” 

“ She has been sweet and good the whole after¬ 
noon,” said his mother Setchem. “ She sees you so 
seldom.” 

“ May be,” replied Paaker; “ still I know this—the 
dogs love me, but no child will come to me.” 

“ You have such hard hands.” 

“ Take the squalling brat away,” said Paaker to the 
nurse. “ Mother, I want to speak to you.” 


1 3 2 


TJARDA. 


Setchem quieted the child, gave it many kisses, and 
sent it to bed; then she went up to her son, stroked 
his cheeks, and said : 

“ If the little one were your own, she would go to 
you at once, and teach you that a child is the greatest 
blessing which the Gods bestow on us mortals.” 

Paaker smiled and said: “ I know what you are 
aiming at—but leave it for the present, for I have 
something important to communicate to you.” 

“ Well ?” asked Setchem. 

“To-day for the first time since—you know when, 
I have spoken to Nefert. The past may be forgotten. 
You long for your sister; go to her, I have nothing more 
to say against it.” 

Setchem looked at her son with undisguised aston¬ 
ishment; her eyes which easily filled with tears, now 
overflowed, and she hesitatingly asked: “ Can I believe 
my ears; child, have you ?—” 

“ I have a wish,” said Paaker firmly, “ that you should 
knit once more the old ties of affection with your rela¬ 
tions; the estrangement has lasted long enough.” 

“ Much too long!” cried Setchem. 

The pioneer looked in silence at the ground, and 
obeyed his mother’s sign to sit down beside her. 

“ I knew,” she said, taking his hand, “ that this day 
would bring us joy; for I dreamt of your father in Osiris, 
and when I was being carried to the temple, I was met, 
first by a white cow, and then by a wedding procession. 
The white ram of Amon, too, touched the wheat-cakes 
that I offered him.”* 


* It boded death to Germanlcus when the Apis refused to eat out of his 
hand. 


UARDA. 


*33 


“Those are lucky presages,” said Paaker in a tone 
of conviction. 

“And let us hasten to seize with gratitude that 
which the Gods set before us,” cried Setchem with joy¬ 
ful emotion. “ I will go to-morrow to my sister and tell 
her that we shall live together in our old affection, and 
share both good and evil; we are both of the same 
race, and I know that, as order and cleanliness preserve 
a house from ruin and rejoice the stranger, so nothing 
but unity can keep up the happiness of the family and 
its appearance before people. What is bygone is by¬ 
gone, and let it be forgotten. There are many women 
in Thebes besides Nefert, and a hundred nobles in the 
land would esteem themselves happy to win you for a 
son-in-law.” 

Paaker rose, and began thoughtfully pacing the 
broad space, while Setchem went on speaking. 

“ I know,” she said, “ that I have touched a wound 
in thy heart; but it is already closing, and it will heal 
when you are happier even than the charioteer Mena, 
and need no longer hate him. Nefert is good, but she 
is delicate and not clever, and scarcely equal to the 
management of so large a household as ours. Ere long 
I too shall be wrapped in mummy-cloths, and then if 
duty calls you into Syria some prudent housewife must 
take my place. It is no small matter. Your grand¬ 
father Assa often would say that a house well-conducted 
in every detail was a mark of a family owning an un¬ 
spotted name, and living with wise liberality and se¬ 
cure solidity, in which each had his assigned place, his 
allotted duty to fulfil, and his fixed rights to demand. 
How often have I prayed to the Hathors that they may 
send you a wife after my own heart.” 


134 


UARDA. 


“A Setchem I shall never find!” said Paaker kiss¬ 
ing his mother’s forehead, “women of your sort are dy¬ 
ing out,” 

“Flatterer!” laughed Setchem, shaking her finger at 
her son. But it is true. Those who are now growing 
up dress and smarten themselves with stuffs from Kaft,* 
mix their language with Syrian words, and leave the 
steward and housekeeper free when they themselves 
ought to command. Even my sister Katuti, and Ne- 
fert— 

“Nefert is different from other women,” interrupted 
Paaker, “and if you had brought her up she would 
know how to manage a house as well as how to orna¬ 
ment it.” 

Setchem looked at her son in surprise; then she 
said, half to herself: “Yes, yes, she is a sweet child; it 
is impossible for any one to be angry with her who 
looks into her eyes. And yet I was cruel to her be¬ 
cause you were hurt by her, and because—but you 
know. But now you have forgiven, I forgive her, 
willingly; her and her husband.” 

Paaker’s brow clouded, and while he paused in front 
of his mother he said with all the peculiar harshness of 
his voice: 

“ He shall pine away in the desert, and the hyaenas 
of the North shall tear his unburied corpse.” 

At these words Setchem covered her face with her 
veil, and clasped her hands tightly over the amulets 
hanging round her neck. Then she said softly: 

“How terrible you can be! I know well that you 
hate the charioteer, for I have seen the seven arrows 
over your couch over which is written ‘ Death to Mena.* 


* Phoenicia. 


UARDA. 


*35 


That is a Syrian charm which a man turns against any 
one whom he desires to destroy. How black you look! 
Yes, it is a charm that is hateful to the Gods, and that 
gives the evil one power over him that uses it. Leave 
it to them to punish the criminal, for Osiris withdraws 
his favor from those who choose the fiend for their 
ally.” 

“My sacrifices,” replied Paaker, “secure me the 
favor of the Gods; but Mena behaved to me like a 
vile robber, and I only return to him the evil that be¬ 
longs to him. Enough of this! and if you love me, never 
again utter the name of my enemy before me. I have 
forgiven Nefert and her mother—that may satisfy 
you.” 

Setchem shook her head, and said: “ What will it 
lead to! The war cannot last for ever, and if Mena 
returns the reconciliation of to-day will turn to all the 
more bitter enmity. I see only one remedy. Follow 
my advice, and let me find you a wife worthy of 
you.” 

“ Not now!” exclaimed Paaker impatiently. “ In a 
few days I must go again into the enemy’s country, and 
do not wish to leave my wife, like Mena, to lead the 
life of a widow during my existence. Why urge it ? 
my brother’s wife and children are with you—that might 
satisfy you.” 

“ The Gods know how I love them,” answered Set¬ 
chem; “but your brother Horus is the younger, and 
you the elder, to whom the inheritance belongs. Your 
little niece is a delightful plaything, but in your son I 
should see at once the future stay of our race, the fu¬ 
ture head of the family; brought up to my mind and 
your father’s; for all is sacred to me that my dead hus- 


13 6 


UARDA. 


band wished. He rejoiced in your early betrothal to 
Nefert, and hoped that a son of his eldest son should 
continue the race of Assa.” 

“It shall be by no fault of mine that any wish of 
his remains unfulfilled. The stars are high, mother; 
sleep well, and if to-morrow you visit Nefert and your 
sister, say to them that the doors of my house are open 
to them. But stay! Katuti’s steward has offered to sell 
a herd of cattle to ours, although the stock on Mena’s 
land can be but small. What does this mean ?” 

“You know my sister,” replied Setchem. “She 
manages Mena’s possessions, has many requirements, 
tries to vie with the greatest in splendor, sees the 
governor often in her house, her son is no doubt ex¬ 
travagant—and so the most necessary things may often 
be wanting.” 

Paaker shrugged his shoulders, once more embraced 
his mother and left her. 

Soon after, he was standing in the spacious room 
in which he was accustomed to sit and to sleep when 
he was in Thebes. The walls of this room were white¬ 
washed and decorated with pious sentences in hiero¬ 
glyphic writing, which framed in the door and the 
windows opening into the garden. 

In the middle of the farther wall was a couch in 
the form of a lion. The upper end of it imitated a 
lion’s head, and the foot, its curling tail; a finely- 
dressed lion’s skin was spread over the bed, and a head¬ 
rest of ebony, decorated with pious texts, stood on a 
high foot-step, ready for the sleeper. 

Above the bed various costly weapons and whips 
were elegantly displayed, and below them the seven 
arrows over which Setchem had read the words “ Death 


UARDA. 


137 


to Mena.” They were written across a sentence which 
enjoined feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, 
and clothing the naked;* with loving-kindness, alike to 
the great and the humble. 

A niche by the side of the bed-head was closed 
with a curtain of purple stuff. 

In each corner of the room stood a statue; three of 
them symbolized the triad of Thebes—Amon, Muth, 
and Chunsu—and the fourth the dead father of the 
pioneer. In front of each was a small altar for offerings, 
with a hollow in it, in which was an odoriferous essence. 
On a wooden stand were little images of the Gods and 
amulets in great number, and in several painted chests 
lay the clothes, the ornaments and the papers of the 
master. In the midst of the chamber stood a table and 
several stool-shaped seats. 

When Paaker entered the room he found it lighted 
with lamps, and a large dog sprang joyfully to meet 
him. He let him spring upon him, threw him to the 
ground, let him once more rush upon him, and then 
kissed his clever head. 

Before his bed an old negro of powerful build lay 
in deep sleep. Paaker shoved him with his foot and 
called to him as he awoke— 

“ I am hungry.” 

The grey-headed black man rose slowly, and left 
the room. 

As soon as he was alone Paaker drew the philter from 
his girdle, looked at it tenderly, and put it in a box, in 
which there were several flasks of holy oils for sacrifice. 

He was accustomed every evening to fill the hol- 

* A command frequently repeated in the Sacred Writings, and often found in 
the monuments of the ancient empire, for instance at Beni-Hassan (,12th dynasty). 

TO 


UARDA. 


*3* 

lows in the altars with fresh essences, and to prostrate 
himself in prayer before the images of the Gods. 

To-day he stood before the statue of his father, 
kissed its feet, and murmured: “ Thy will shall be 
done. The woman whom thou didst intend for me 
shall indeed be mine—thy eldest son’s.” 

Then he walked to and fro and thought over the 
events of the day. 

At last he stood still, with his arms crossed, and 
looked defiantly at the holy images; like a traveller 
who drives away a false guide, and thinks to find the 
road by himself. 

His eye fell on the arrows over his bed; he smiled, 
and striking his broad breast with his fist, he ex¬ 
claimed, “I—I—I—” 

His hound, who thought his master meant to call 
him, rushed up to him. He pushed him off and said— 

“ If you meet a hyaena in the desert, you fall 
upon it without waiting till it is touched by my lance 
—and if the Gods, my masters, delay, I myself will 
defend my right; but thou,” he continued turning to 
the image of his father, “ thou wilt support me.” 

This soliloquy was interrupted by the slaves who 
brought in his meal. 

Paaker glanced at the various dishes which the 
cook had prepared for him, and asked: “ How often 
shall I command that not a variety, but only one large 
dish shall be dressed for me ? And the wine ?” 

“ Thou art used never to touch it ?” answered the 
old negro. 

“ But to-day I wish for some,” said the pioneer. 
“ Bring one of the old jars of red wine of Kakem.”* 


* A place not far from the Pyramid of Saqqarah in the Neciopolis of 


UARDA. 


139 


The slaves looked at each other in astonishment; 
the wine was brought, and Paaker emptied beaker 
after beaker. When the servants had left him, the 
boldest among them said: “ Usually the master eats 
like a lion, and drinks like a midge, but to-day—” 

“ Hold your tongue!” cried his companion, “ and 
come into the court, for Paaker has sent us out beer. 
The Hathors must have met him.” 

The occurrences of the day must indeed have 
taken deep hold on the inmost soul of the pioneer; 
for he, the most sober of all the warriors of Rameses, 
to whom intoxication was unknown, and who avoided 
the banquets of his associates—now sat at the mid¬ 
night hours, alone at his table, and toped till his 
weary head grew heavy. 

He collected himself, went towards his couch and 
drew the curtain which concealed the niche at the 
head of the bed. A female figure, with the head-dress 
and attributes of the Goddess Hathor, made of painted' 
limestone, revealed itself. 

Her countenance had the features of the wife of 
Mena. 

The king, four years since, had ordered a sculptor 
to execute a sacred image with the lovely features 
of the newly-married bride of his charioteer, and 
Paaker had succeeded in having a duplicate made. 

He now knelt down on the couch, gazed on the 
image with moist eyes, looked cautiously around to 
see if he was alone, leaned forward, pressed a kiss to 
the delicate, cold stone lips; laid down and went to 

Memphis, where, even in remote times, there must have been a wine-press, a j 
the red wine of Kakem (Kochome ?) is often mentioned. 


140 


UARDA. 


sleep without undressing himself, and leaving the lamps 
to burn themselves out. 

Restless dreams disturbed his spirit, and when the 
dawn grew grey, he screamed out, tormented by a 
hideous vision, so pitifully, that the old negro, who 
had laid himself near the dog at the foot of his bed. 
sprang up alarmed, and while the dog howled, called 
him by his name to wake him. 

Paaker awoke with a dull head-ache. The vision 
which had tormented him stood vividly before his mind, 
and he endeavored to retain it that he might sum¬ 
mon a haruspex to interpret it. After the morbid 
fancies of the preceding evening he felt sad and de¬ 
pressed. 

The morning-hymn rang into his room with a 
warning voice from the temple of Amon; he cast off 
evil thoughts, and resolved once more to resign the 
conduct of his fate to the Gods, and to renounce all 
the arts of magic. 

As he was accustomed, he got into the bath that 
was ready for him. While splashing in the tepid water 
he thought with ever increasing eagerness of Nefert 
and of the philter which at first he had meant not to 
offer to her, but which actually was given to her by 
his hand, and which might by this time have begun 
to exercise its charm. 

Love placed rosy pictures—hatred set blood-red 
images before his eyes. He strove to free himself from 
the temptations, which more and more tightly closed in 
upon him, but it was with him as with a man who has 
fallen into a bog, who, the more vehemently he tries 
to escape from the mire, sinks the deeper. 

As the sun rose, so rose his vital energy and his 


UARDA. 


141 


self-confidence, and when he prepared to quit his 
dwelling, in his most costly clothing, he had arrived 
once more at the decision of the night before, and had 
again resolved to fight for his purpose, without—and 
if need were—against the Gods. 

The Mohar had chosen his road, and he never 
turned back when once he had begun a journey. 

CHAPTER IX. 

It was noon: the rays of the sun found no way 
into the narrow shady streets of the city of Thebes, 
but they blazed with scorching heat on the broad 
dyke-road which led to the king’s castle, and which at 
this hour was usually almost deserted. 

To-day it was thronged with foot-passengers and 
chariots, with riders and litter-bearers. 

Here and there negroes poured water on the road 
out of skins, but the dust was so deep, that, in spite 
of this, it shrouded the streets and the passengers in a 
dry cloud, which extended not only over the city, but 
down to the harbor wh£re the boats of the inhabi¬ 
tants of the Necropolis landed their freight. 

The city of the Pharaohs was in unwonted agita¬ 
tion, for the storm-swift breath of rumor had spread 
some news which excited both alarm and hope in the 
huts of the poor as well as in the palaces of the 
great. 

In the early morning three mounted messengers 
nad arrived from the king’s camp with heavy letter-* 
bags, and had dismounted at the Regent’s palace. 


* The Egyptians were great letter-writers, and many of their letters have 


142 


UARDA. 


As after a long drought the inhabitants of a village 
gaze up at the black thunder-cloud that gathers above 
their heads promising the refreshing rain—but that 
may also send the kindling lightning-flash or the destroy¬ 
ing hail-storm—so the hopes and the fears of the 
citizens were centred on the news which came but 
rarely and at irregular intervals from the scene of 
war; for there was scarcely a house in the huge city 
which had not sent a father, a son, or a relative to 
the fighting hosts of the king in the distant north¬ 
east. 

And though the couriers from the camp were 
much oftener the heralds of tears than of joy; though 
the written rolls which they brought told more often 
of death and wounds than of promotion, royal favors, 
and conquered spoil, yet they were expected with soul- 
felt longing and received with shouts of joy. 

Great and small hurried after their arrival to the 
Regent’s palace, and the scribes—who distributed 
the letters and read the news which was intended 
for public communication, and the lists of those 
who had fallen or perished—were closely besieged 
with enquirers. 

Man has nothing harder to endure than uncer¬ 
tainty, and generally, when in suspense, looks forward 
to bad rather than to good news. And the bearers of 
ill ride faster than the messengers of weal. 

The Regent Ani resided in a building adjoining 
the king’s palace. His business-quarters surrounded 

come down to us, they also had established postmen, and had a word fo» 
them in their language “fai chat.” Maspero has treated,the matter extremely 
well in his paper “du genre epistolaire chez les anciens Egyptiens de l’epoque 
Pharaonlque.” 


UARDA. 


*43 


an immensely wide court, and consisted of a great 
number of rooms opening on to this court, in which 
numerous scribes worked with their chief. On the 
farther side was a large, veranda-like hall open at the 
front, with a roof supported by pillars. 

Here Ani was accustomed to hold courts of justice, 
and to receive officers, messengers, and petitioners. 

To-day he sat, visible to all comers, on a costly 
throne in this hall, surrounded by his numerous fol¬ 
lowers, and overlooking the crowd of people whom the 
guardians of the peace* guided with long staves, ad¬ 
mitting them in troops into the court of the “ High 
Gate,” and then again conducting them out. 

What he saw and heard was nothing joyful, for 
from each group surrounding a scribe arose a cry of 
woe. Few and far between were those who had to 
tell of the rich booty that had fallen to their friends. 

An invisible web woven of wailing and tears 
seemed to envelope the assembly. 

Here men were lamenting and casting dust upon 
their heads, there women were rending their clothes, 
shrieking loudly, and crying as they waved their veils: 
“ oh, my husband! oh, my father! oh, my brother!” 

Parents who had received the news of the death of 
their son fell on each other’s neck weeping; old men 
plucked out their grey hair and beard; young women 
beat their forehead and breast, or implored the scribes 
who read out the lists to let them see for themselves 
the name of the beloved one who was for ever torn 
from them. 

The passionate stirring of a soul, whether it be the 
result of joy or of sorrow, among us moderns covers its 

* Presumably a kind of oolice.— Transl. 


144 


UARDA. 


features with a veil, which it had no need of among 
the ancients. 

Where the loudest laments sounded, a restless little 
being might be seen hurrying from group to group; it 
was Nemu, Katuti’s dwarf, whom we know. 

Now he stood near a woman of the better class, 
dissolved in tears because her husband had fallen in 
the last battle. 

“ Can you read ?” he asked her; “ up there on the 
architrave is the name of Rameses, with all his titles. 
‘ Dispenser of life,’ he is called. Aye indeed; he can 
create—widows; for he has all the husbands killed.” 

Before the astonished woman could reply, he stood 
by a man sunk in woe, and pulling his robe, said: 
“ Finer fellows than your son have never been seen in 
ThebeS. Let your youngest starve, or beat him to a 
cripple, else he also will be dragged off to Syria; for 
Rameses needs much good Egyptian meat for the 
Syrian vultures.” 

The old man, who had hitherto stood there in 
silent despair, clenched his fist. The dwarf pointed 
to the Regent, and said: “If he there wielded the 
sceptre, there would be fewer orphans and beggars by 
the Nile. To-day its sacred waters are still sweet, 
but soon it will taste as salt as the north sea with all 
the tears that have been shed on its banks.” 

It almost seemed as if the Regent had heard 
these words, for he rose from his seat and lifted his 
hands like a man who is lamenting. 

Many of the bystanders observed this action; and 
loud cries of anguish filled the wide courtyard, which 
was soon cleared by soldiers to make room for other 
troops of people who were thronging in. 


UARDA. 


J 45 


While these gathered round the scribes, the Regent 
Ani sat with quiet dignity on the throne, surrounded 
by his suite and his secretaries, and held audiences. 

He was a man at the close of his fortieth year 
and the favorite cousin of the king. 

Rameses I., the grandfather of the reigning monarch, 
had deposed the legitimate royal family, and usurped 
the sceptre of the Pharaohs. He descended from a 
Semitic race who had remained in Egypt at the time 
of the expulsion of the Hyksos,* and had distinguished 
itself by warlike talents under Thotmes and Ameno- 
phis. After his death he was succeeded by his son 
Seti, who sought to earn a legitimate claim to the 
throne by marrying Tuaa, the grand-daughter of Ameno- 
phis III. She presented him with an only son, whom 
he named after his father Rameses. This prince might 
lay claim to perfect legitimacy through his mother, 
who descended directly from the old house of sover¬ 
eigns ; for in Egypt a noble family—even that of the 
Pharaohs—might be perpetuated through women. 

Seti proclaimed Rameses** partner of his throne, 
so as to remove all doubt as to the validity of his posi¬ 
tion. The young nephew of his wife Tuaa, the Regent 
Ani, who was a few years younger than Rameses, he 
caused to be brought up in the House of Seti, and 
treated him like his own son, while the other members 


* These were an eastern race who migrated from Asia into Egypt, con¬ 
quered the lower Nile-valley, and ruled over it for nearly 500 years, till they 
were driven out by the successors of the old legitimate Pharaohs, whose domin¬ 
ion had been confined to upper Egypt. 

** Apparently even at his birth. According to an inscription at Abydos, 
published by Mariette, and first interpreted by Maspero, Rameses boasts of 
having been “ King even in the egg.” He is the Sesostris of the Greeks. His 
surname Sesesu-Ra is preserved on the monuments. When the Greeks speak 
of the great deeds of Sesostris, they include those of Seti and Rameses. 


146 


UARDA. 


of the dethroned royal family were robbed of their 
possessions or removed altogether. 

Ani proved himself a faithful servant to Seti, and 
to his son, and was trusted as a brother by the warlike 
and magnanimous Rameses, who however never dis¬ 
guised from himself the fact that the blood in his 
own veins was less purely royal than that which flowed 
in his cousin’s. 

It was required of the race of the Pharaohs of 
Egypt that it should be descended from the Sun-god 
Ra, and the Pharaoh could boast of this high descent 
only through his mother—Ani through both parents. 

But Rameses sat on the throne, held the sceptre 
with a strong hand, and thirteen young sons promised 
to his house the lordship over Egypt to all eternity. 

When, after the death of his warlike father, he 
went to fresh conquests in the north, he appointed 
Ani, who had proved himself worthy as governor of 
the province of Kush,* to the regency of the king¬ 
dom. 

A vehement character often over-estimates the man 
who is endowed with a quieter temperament, into 
whose nature he cannot throw himself, and whose ex¬ 
cellences he is unable to imitate; so it happened that 
the deliberate and passionless nature of his cousin 
impressed the fiery and warlike Rameses. 

Ani appeared to be devoid of ambition, or the 
spirit of enterprise; he accepted the dignity that was 
laid upon him with apparent reluctance, and seemed 
a particularly safe person, because he had lost both 
wife and child, and could boast of no heir. 

He was a man of more than middle height; his 


* Ethiopia. 


UARDA. 


147 


features were remarkably regular—even beautifully- 
cut, but smooth and with little expression. His clear 
blue eyes and thin lips gave no evidence of the 
emotions that filled his heart; on the contrary, his 
countenance wore a soft smile that could adapt itself 
to haughtiness, to humility, and to a variety of shades 
of feeling, but which could never be entirely banished 
from his face. 

He had listened with affable condescension to the 
complaint of a landed proprietor, whose cattle had 
been driven off for the king’s army, and had promised 
that his case should be enquired into. The plundered 
man was leaving full of hope; but when the scribe 
who sat at the feet of the Regent enquired to whom 
the investigation of this encroachment of the troops 
should be entrusted, Ani said: “ Each one must bring a 
victim to the war; it must remain among the things 
that are done, and cannot be undone.” 

The Nomarch* of Suan, in the southern part of 
the country, asked for funds for a necessary, new em¬ 
bankment. The Regent listened to his eager rep¬ 
resentation with benevolence, nay with expressions of 
sympathy; but assured him that the war absorbed all 
the funds of the state, that the chests were empty; 
still he felt inclined—even if they had not failed—to 
sacrifice a part of his own income to preserve the 
endangered arable land of his faithful province of 
Suan, to which he desired greeting. 

As soon as the Nomarch had left him, he com¬ 
manded that a considerable sum should be taken out 
of the Treasury, and sent after the petitioner. 

From time to time in the middle of conversation, 


* Chief of a Nome or district 


148 


UARDA. 


he arose, and made a gesture of lamentation, to show 
to the assembled mourners in the court that he sym¬ 
pathized in the losses which had fallen on them. 

The sun had already passed the meridian, when 
a disturbance, accompanied by loud cries, took pos¬ 
session of the masses of people, who stood round the 
scribes in the palace court. 

Many men and women were streaming together 
towards one spot, and even the most impassive of the 
Thebans present turned their attention to an incident 
so unusual in this place. 

A detachment of constabulary made a way through 
the crushing and yelling mob, and another division of 
Lybian police led a prisoner towards a side gate of 
the court. Before they could reach it, a messenger 
came up with them, from the Regent, who desired to 
be informed as to what happened. 

The head of the officers of public safety followed 
him, and with eager excitement informed Ani, who 
was waiting for him, that a tiny man, the dwarf of 
the Lady Katuti, had for several hours been going 
about in the court, and endeavoring to poison the 
minds of the citizens with seditious speeches. 

Ani ordered that the misguided man should be 
thrown into the dungeon; but so soon as the chief 
officer had left him, he commanded his secretary to 
have the dwarf brought into his presence before sun¬ 
down. 

While he was giving this order an excitement of 
another kind seized the assembled multitude. 

As the sea parted and stood on the right hand 
and on the left of the Hebrews, so that no wave wetted 
the foot of the pursued fugitives, so the crowd of 


UARDA, 


149 


people of their own free will, but as if in reverent sub¬ 
mission to some high command, parted and formed a 
broad way, through which walked the high-priest of 
the House of Seti, as, full robed and accompanied by 
some of the “ holy fathers,” he now entered the court. 

The Regent went to meet him, bowed before him, 
and then withdrew to the back of the hall with him alone. 

“ It is nevertheless incredible,” said Ameni, “ that 
our serfs are to follow the militia!” 

“ Rameses requires soldiers—to conquer,” replied 
the Regent. 

“ And we bread—to live,” exclaimed the priest. 

“ Nevertheless I am commanded, at once, before the 
seed-time, to levy the temple-serfs. I regret the order, 
but the king is the will, and I am only the hand.” 

“ The hand, which he makes use of to sequester 
ancient rights, and to open a way to the desert over 
the fruitful land.” * 

“ Your acres will not long remain unprovided for. 
Rameses will win new victories with the increased army, 
and the help of the Gods.” 

“ The Gods! whom he insults!” 

“ After the conclusion of peace he will reconcile the 
Gods by doubly rich gifts. He hopes confidently for an 
early end to the war, and writes to me that after the next 
battle he wins he intends to offer terms to the Cheta. A 
plan of the king’s is also spoken of—to marry again, 
and, indeed, the daughter of the Cheta King Chetasar.” 

Up to this moment the Regent had kept his eyes 
cast down. Now he raised them, smiling, as if he 
would fain enjoy Ameni’s satisfaction, and asked : 

* “With good management,” said the first Napoleon, “the Nile encroaches 
upon the desert, with bad management the desert encroaches upon the Nile.” 


UARDA. 


1 5 ° 


“ What dost thou say to this project ?” 

“ I say,” returned Ameni, and his voice, usually so 
stern, took a tone of amusement, “ I say that Rameses 
seems to think that the blood of thy cousin and of 
his mother, which gives him his right to the throne, is 
incapable of pollution.” 

“ It is the blood of the Sun-god!” 

“ Which runs but half pure in his veins, but wholly 
pure in thine.” 

The Regent made a deprecatory gesture, and 
said softly, with a smile which resembled that of a 
dead man: 

“ We are not alone.” 

“No one is here,” said Ameni, “who can hear us; 
and what I say is known to every child.” 

“ But if it came to the king’s ears—” whispered 
Ani, “ he—” 

“ He would perceive how unwise it is to derogate 
from the ancient rights of those on whom it is incum¬ 
bent to prove the purity of blood of the sovereign of 
this land. However, Rameses sits on the throne; may 
life bloom for him, with health and strength !”* 

The Regent bowed, and then asked: 

“ Do you propose to obey the demand of the Pha¬ 
raoh without delay ?” 

“ He is the king. Our council, which will meet in 
a few days, can only determine how , and not whether 
we shall fulfil his command.” 

“You will retard the departure of the serfs, and 
Rameses requires them at once. The bloody labor 
of the war demands new tools.” 


* A formula which even in private letters constantly follows the name of 
the Pharaoh. 


UARDA. 


*5* 

“ And the peace will perhaps demand a new master, 
who understands how to employ the sons of the land 
to its greatest advantage—a genuine son of Ra.” 

The Regent stood opposite the high-priest, mo¬ 
tionless as an image cast in bronze, and remained 
silent; but Ameni lowered his staff before him as be¬ 
fore a god, and then went into the fore part of the hall. 

When Ani followed him, a soft smile played as 
usual upon his countenance, and full of dignity he took 
his seat on the throne. 

“ Art thou at an end of thy communications ?” he 
asked the high-priest. 

“ It remains for me to inform you all,” replied Ameni 
with a louder voice, to be heard by all the assembled 
dignitaries, “ that the princess Bent-Anat yesterday 
morning committed a heavy sin, and that in all the 
temples in the land the Gods shall be entreated with 
offerings to take her uncleanness from her.” 

Again a shadow passed over the smile on the 
Regent’s countenance. He looked meditatively on the 
ground, and then said: 

“To-morrow I will visit the House ofSeti; till then 
I beg that this affair may be left to rest.” 

Ameni bowed, and the Regent left the hall to 
withdraw to a wing of the king’s palace, in which he 
dwelt. 

On his writing-table lay sealed papers. He knew 
that they contained important news for him; but he 
loved to do violence to his curiosity, to test his resolu¬ 
tion, and like an epicure to reserve the best dish till 
the last. 

He now glanced first at some unimportant letters. 

A dumb negro, who squatted at his feet, burned the 


*5 2 


UARDA. 


papyrus rolls which his master gave him in a brazier. 
A secretary made notes of the short facts which Ani 
called out to him, and the ground work was laid of 
the answers to the different letters. 

At a sign from his master this functionary quitted 
the room, and Ani then slowly opened a letter 
from the king, whose address: “To my brother Ani,” 
showed that it contained, not public, but private in¬ 
formation. 

On these lines, as he well knew, hung his future 
life, and the road it should follow. 

With a smile, that was meant to conceal even from 
himself his deep inward agitation, he broke the wax 
which sealed the short manuscript in the royal hand. 

“ What relates to Egypt, and my concern for my 
country, and the happy issue of the war,” wrote the 
Pharaoh, “ I have written to you by the hand of my 
secretary; but these words are for the brother, who 
desires to be my son, and I write to him myself. The 
lordly essence of the Divinity which dwells in me, 
readily brings a quick ‘ Yes ’ or ‘ No ’ to my lips, and it 
decides for the best. Now you demand my daughter 
Bent-Anat to wife, and I should not be Rameses if I 
did not freely confess that before I had read the last 
words of your letter, a vehement ‘No’ rushed to my 
lips. I caused the stars to be consulted, and the entrails 
of the victims to be examined, and they were adverse 
to your request; and yet I could not refuse you, for 
you are dear to me, and your blood is royal as my 
own. Even more royal, an old friend said, and warned 
me against your ambition and your exaltation. Then 
my heart changed, for I were not Seti’s son if I allow 
myself to injure a friend through idle apprehensions; 


UARDA. 


*53 


and he who stands so high that men fear that he may 
try to rise above Rameses, seems to me to be worthy 
of Bent-Anat. Woo her, and, should she consent freely, 
the marriage may be celebrated on the day when I 
return home. You are young enough to make a wife 
happy, and your mature wisdom will guard my child 
from misfortune. Bent-Anat shall know that her father, 
and king, encourages your suit; but pray too to the 
Hathors, that they may influence Bent-Anat’s heart in 
your favor, for to her decision we must both submit.” 

The Regent had changed color several times 
while reading this letter. Now he laid it on the 
table with a shrug of his shoulders, stood up, clasped 
his hand behind him, and, with his eyes cast medita¬ 
tively on the floor, leaned against one of the pillars 
which supported the beams of the roof. 

The longer he thought, the less amiable his ex¬ 
pression became. “A pill sweetened with honey,* such 
as they give to women,” he muttered to himself. Then 
he went back to the table, read the king’s letter through 
once more, and said: “ One may learn from it how to 
deny by granting, and at the same time not to forget 
to give it a brilliant show of magnanimity. Rameses 
knows his daughter. She is a girl like any other, and 
will take good care not to choose a man twice as old 
as herself, and who might be her father. Rameses 
will ‘ submit ’—I am to ‘ submit!’ And to what ? to the 
judgment and the choice of a wilful child!” 

With these words he threw the letter so vehe¬ 
mently on to the table, that it slipped off on to the 
floor. 

* Two recipes for pills are found in the papyri, one with honey for women, 
and one without for men. 


II 


*54 


UARDA. 


The mute slave picked it up, and laid it carefully 
on the table again, while his master threw a ball into 
a silver bason. 

Several attendants rushed into the room, and Ani 
ordered them to bring to him the captive dwarf of the 
Lady Katuti. His soul rose in indignation against the 
king, who in his remote camp-tent could fancy he had 
made him happy by a proof of his highest favor. 

When we are plotting against a man we are in¬ 
clined to regard him as an enemy, and if he offers us 
a rose we believe it to be for the sake, not of the per¬ 
fume, but of the thorns. 

The dwarf Nemu was brought before the Regent 
and threw himself on the ground at his feet. 

Ani ordered the attendants to leave him, and said 
to the little man : 

“ You compelled me to put you in prison. Stand up!” 

The dwarf rose and said, “ Be thanked—for my 
arrest too.” 

The Regent looked at him in astonishment; but 
Nemu went on half humbly, half in fun, “ I feared for 
my life, but thou hast not only not shortened it, but 
hast prolonged it; for in the solitude of the dungeon 
time seemed long, and the minutes grown to hours.” 

“ Keep your wit for the ladies,” replied the Regent. 
“ Did I not know that you meant well, and acted in 
accordance with the Lady Katuti’s fancy, I would 
send you to the quarries.” 

“ My hands,” mumbled the dwarf, “ could only break 
stones for a game of draughts; but my tongue is like 
the water, which makes one peasant rich, and carries 
away the fields of another.” 

“We shall know how to dam it up.” 


UARDA. 


1 55 


“ For my lady and for thee it will always flow the 
right way,” said the dwarf. “ I showed the complain¬ 
ing citizens who it is that slaughters their flesh and 
blood, and from whom to look for peace and content. 
I poured caustic into their wounds, and praised the 
physician.” 

“But unasked and recklessly,” interrupted Ani; 
“ otherwise you have shown yourself capable, and I 
am willing to spare you for a future time. But over¬ 
busy friends are more damaging than intelligent 
enemies. When I need your services I will call for 
you. Till then avoid speech. Now go to your mis¬ 
tress, and carry to Katuti this letter which has arrived 
for her.” 

“ Hail to Ani, the son of the Sun!” cried the dwarf 
kissing the Regent’s foot. “ Have I no letter to carry 
to my mistress Nefert?” 

“Greet her from me,” replied the Regent. “Tell 
Katuti I will visit her after the next meal. The king’s 
charioteer has not written, yet I hear that he is well. 
Go now, and be silent and discreet.” 

The dwarf quitted the room, and Ani went into 
an airy hall, in which his luxurious meal was laid out, 
consisting of many dishes prepared with special care. 
His appetite was gone, but he tasted of every dish, 
and gave the steward, who attended on him, his opinion 
of each. 

Meanwhile he thought of the king’s letter, of Bent- 
Anat, and whether it would be advisable to expose 
himself to a rejection on her part. 

After the meal he gave himself up to his body- 
servant, who carefully shaved, painted, dressed, and 
decorated him, and then held the mirror before him. 


UARDA. 


156 

He considered the reflection with anxious observation, 
and when he seated himself in his litter to be borne 
to the house of his friend Katuti, he said to himself 
that he still might claim to be called a handsome 
man. 

If he paid his court to Bent-Anat—if she listened 
to his suit—what then ? 

He would refer it to Katuti, who always knew how 
to say a decisive word when he, entangled in a hun¬ 
dred pros and cons , feared to venture on a final step. 

By her advice he had sought to wed the prin¬ 
cess, as a fresh mark of honor—as an addition to his 
revenues—as a pledge for his personal safety. His 
heart had never been more or less attached to her 
than to any other beautiful woman in Egypt. Now 
her proud and noble personality stood before his in¬ 
ward eye, and he felt as if he must look up to it as 
to a vision high out of his reach. It vexed him that 
he had followed Katuti’s advice, and he began to wish 
his suit had been repulsed. Marriage with Bent-Anat 
seemed to him beset with difficulties. His mood was 
that of a man who craves some brilliant position, 
though he knows that its requirements are beyond his 
powers—that of an ambitious soul to whom kingly 
honors are offered on condition that he will never 
remove a heavy crown from his head. If indeed an¬ 
other plan should succeed, if—and his eyes flashed 
eagerly—if fate set him on the seat of Rameses, then 
the alliance with Bent-Anat would lose its terrors; 
there would he be her absolute King and Lord and 
Master, and no one could require him to account for 
what he might be to her, or vouchsafe to her. 



UARDA. 


*57 


CHAPTER X. 

During the events we have described the house 
of the charioteer Mena had not remained free from 
visitors. 

It resembled the neighboring estate of Paaker, 
though the buildings were less new, the gay paint on 
the pillars and walls was faded, and the large garden 
lacked careful attention. In the vicinity of the house 
only, a few well-kept beds blazed with splendid flowers, 
and the open colonnade, which was occupied by Katuti 
and her daughter, was furnished with royal magnifi¬ 
cence. 

The elegantly carved seats were made of ivory, the 
tables of ebony, and they, as well as the couches, had 
gilt feet. The artistically worked Syrian drinking 
vessels on the sideboard, tables, and consoles were of 
many forms; beautiful vases full of flowers stood every¬ 
where; rare perfumes rose from alabaster cups, and 
the foot sank in the thick pile of the carpets which 
covered the floor. 

And over the apparently careless arrangement of 
these various objects there reigned a peculiar charm, 
an indescribably fascinating something. 

Stretched at full-length on a couch, and playing 
with a silky-haired white cat, lay the fair Nefert— 
fanned to coolness by a negro-girl—while her mother 
Katuti nodded a last farewell to her sister Setchem 
and to Paaker. 

Both had crossed this threshold for the first time 
for four years, that is since the marriage of Mena with 


UARDA. 


158 

Nefert, and the old enmity seemed now to have given 
way to heartfelt reconciliation and mutual under¬ 
standing. 

After the pioneer and his mother had disappeared 
behind the pomegranate shrubs at the entrance of the 
garden, Katuti turned to her daughter and said: 

“ Who would have thought it yesterday ? I believe 
Paaker loves you still.” 

Nefert colored, and exclaimed softly, while she 
hit the kitten gently with her fan— 

“ Mother!” 

Katuti smiled. 

She was a tall woman of noble demeanor, whose 
sharp but delicately-cut features and sparkling eyes 
could still assert some pretensions to feminine beauty. 
She wore a long robe, which reached below her 
ankles; it was of costly material, but dark in color, 
and of a studied simplicity. Instead of the ornaments 
in bracelets, anklets, ear and finger-rings, in necklaces 
and clasps, which most of the Egyptian ladies—and 
indeed her own sister and daughter—were accustomed 
to wear, she had only fresh flowers, which were never 
wanting in the garden of her son-in-law. Only a plain 
gold diadem, the badge of her royal descent, always 
rested, from early morning till late at night, on her 
high brow—-for a woman too high, though nobly formed 
—and confined the long blue-black hair, which fell 
unbraided down her back, as if its owner contemned 
the vain labor of arranging it artistically. But nothing 
in her exterior was unpremeditated, and the unbe- 
jewelled wearer of the diadem, in her plain dress, and 
with her royal figure, was everywhere sure of being 


UARDA. 


l S9 


observed, and of finding imitators of her dress, and 
indeed of her demeanor. 

And yet Katuti had long lived .in need; aye at the 
very hour when we first make her acquaintance, she 
had little of her own, but lived on the estate of her 
son-in-law as his guest, and as the administrator of his 
possessions; and before the marriage of her daughter 
she had lived with her children in a house belonging 
to her sister Setchem. 

She had been the wife of her own brother,* who 
had died young, and who had squandered the greatest 
part of the possessions which had been left to him by 
the new royal family, in an extravagant love of dis- 

play- 

When she became a widow, she was received as a 
sister with her children by her brother-in-law, Paaker’s 
father. She lived in a house of her own, enjoyed the 
income of an estate assigned to her by the old Mohar, 
and left to her son-in-law the care of educating her 
son, a handsome and overbearing lad, with all the 
claims and pretensions of a youth of distinction. 

Such great benefits would have oppressed and dis¬ 
graced the proud Katuti, if she had been content with 
them and in every way agreed with the giver. But 
this was by no means the case; rather, she believed 
that she might pretend to a more brilliant outward 
position, felt herself hurt when her heedless son, while 
he attended school, was warned to work more seriously, 
as he would by and by have to rely on his own skill 


* Marriages between brothers and sisters were allowed in ancient Egypt. 
The Ptolemaic princes adopted this, which was contrary to the Macedonian 
customs. When Ptolemy II. Philadelphia married his sister Arsinoe, it seems 
to have been thought necessary to excuse it by the relative positions of Venus 
and Saturn at that period, and the constraining influences of these planets. 


i 6 o 


UARDA. 


and his own strength. And it had wounded her when 
occasionally her brother-in-law had suggested economy, 
and had reminded her, in his straightforward way, ot 
her narrow means, and the uncertain future of her 
children. 

At this she was deeply offended, for she ventured 
to say that her relatives could never, with all their 
gifts, compensate for the insults they heaped upon 
her; and thus taught them by experience that we 
quarrel with no one more readily than with the bene¬ 
factor whom we can never repay for all the good he 
bestows on us. 

Nevertheless, when her brother-in-law asked the 
hand of her daughter for his son, she willingly gave 
her consent. 

Nefert and Paaker had grown up together, and by 
this union she foresaw that she could secure her own 
future and that of her children. 

Shortly after the death of the Mohar, the charioteer 
Mena had proposed for Nefert’s hand, but would nave 
been refused if the king himself had not supported the 
suit of his favorite officer. After the wedding, she 
retired with Nefert to Mena’s house, and undertook, 
while he was at the war, to manage his great estates, 
which however had been greatly burthened with debt 
by his father. 

Fate put the means into her hands of indemnifying 
herself and her children for many past privations, and 
she availed herself of them to gratify her innate desire 
to be esteemed and admired; to obtain admission for 
her son, splendidly equipped, into a company of 
chariot-warriors of the highest class; and to sur¬ 
round her daughter with princely magnificence. 


UARDA. 


161 


When the Regent, who had been a friend of her 
late husband, removed into the palace of the Pharaohs, 
he made her advances, and the clever and decided 
woman knew how to make herself at first agreeable, 
and finally indispensable, to the vacillating man. 

She availed herself of the circumstance that she, 
as well as he, was descended from the old royal house to 
pique his ambition, and to open to him a view, which 
even to think of, he would have considered forbidden 
as a crime, before he became intimate with her. 

Ani’s suit for the hand of the princess Bent-Anat 
was Katuti’s work. She hoped that the Pharoah 
would refuse, and personally offend the Regent, and 
so make him more inclined to tread the dangerous 
road which she was endeavoring to smooth for him. 
The dwarf Nemu was her pliant tool. 

She had not initiated him into her projects by 
any words; he however gave utterance to every im¬ 
pulse of her mind in free language, which was punished 
only with blows from a fan, and, only the day before, 
had been so audacious as to say that if the Pharoah 
were called Ani instead of Rameses, Katuti would be 
not a queen but a goddess for she would then have not 
to obey, but rather to guide, the Pharaoh, who indeed 
himself was related to the Immortals. 

Katuti did not observe her daughter’s blush, for 
she was looking anxiously out at the garden gate, and 
said: 

“Where can Nemu be! There must be some news 
arrived for us from the army.” 

“Mena has not written for so long,” Nefert said 
softly. “Ah! here is the steward!” 


162 


UARDA. 


Katuti turned to the officer, who had entered the 
veranda through a side door 

“What do you bring,” she asked. 

“The dealer Abscha,” was the answer, “presses lor 
payment. The new Syrian chariot and the purple 
cloth—” 

“Sell some corn,” ordered Katuti. 

“Impossible, for the tribute to the temples is not 
yet paid, and already so much has been delivered to 
the dealers that scarcely enough remains over for the 
maintenance of the household and for sowing.” 

“Then pay with beasts.” 

“But, madam,” said the steward sorrowfully, “only 
yesterday, we again sold a herd to the Mohar; and the 
water-wheels must be turned, and the corn must be 
thrashed, and we need beasts for sacrifice, and milk, 
butter, and cheese, for the use of the house, and dung 
for firing.”* 

Katuti looked thoughtfully at the ground. 

“It must be,” she said presently. “Ride to 
Hermonthis, and say to the keeper of the stud that 
he must have ten of Mena’s golden bays driven over 
here.” - 

“I have already spoken to him,” said the steward, 
“but he maintains that Mena strictly forbade him to 
part with even one of the horses, for he is proud of 
the stock. Only for the chariot of the lady Nefert—” 

“I require obedience,” said Katuti decidedly and 
cutting short the steward’s words, “and I expect the 
horses to-morrow.” 


* In Egypt, where there is so little wood, to this day the dried dung of 
beasts is the commonest kind of fuel. 


UARDA. 163 

“ But the stud-master is a daring man, whom Mena 
looks upon as indispensable, and he—” 

“ I command here, and not the absent,” cried Katuti 
enraged, “and I require the horses in spite of the 
former orders of my son-in-law.” 

Nefert, during this conversation, pulled herself up 
from her indolent attitude. On hearing the last words 
she rose from her couch, and said, with a decision 
which surprised even her mother— 

“The orders of my husband must be obeyed. 
The horses that Mena loves shall stay in their stalls. 
Take this armlet that the king gave me; it is worth 
more than tw r enty horses.” 

The steward examined the trinket, richly set with 
precious stones, and looked enquiringly at Katuti. 
She shrugged her shoulders, nodded consent, and 
said— 

“Abscha shall hold it as a pledge till Mena’s booty 
arrives. For a year your husband has sent nothing of 
importance.” 

When the steward was gone, Nefert stretched her¬ 
self again on her couch and said wearily— 

“ I thought we were rich.” 

“We might be,” said Katuti bitterly; but as she 
perceived that Nefert’s cheeks again were glowing, she 
said amiably, “Our high rank imposes great duties on 
us. Princely blood flows in our veins, and the eyes of 
the people are turned on the wife of the most brilliant 
hero in the king’s army. They shall not say that she 
is neglected by her husband. How long Mena remains 
away!” 

“I hear a noise in the court,” said Nefert. “The 
Regent is coming.” 


164 


UARDA. 


Katuti turned again towards the garden. 

A breathless slave rushed in, and announced that 
Bent-Anat, the daughter of the king, had dismounted 
at the gate, and was approaching the garden with the 
prince Rameri. 

Nefert left her couch, and went with her mother 
to meet the exalted visitors. 

As the mother and daughter bowed to kiss the 
robe of the princess, Bent-Anat signed them back 
from her. “Keep farther from me,” she said; “the 
priests have not yet entirely absolved me from my 
uncleanness.” 

“And in spite of them thou art clean in the sight 
of Ra!” exclaimed the boy who accompanied her, her 
brother of seventeen, who was brought up at the House 
of Seti, which however he was to leave in a few weeks 
—and he kissed her. 

“I shall complain to Ameni of this wild boy,” said 
Bent-Anat smiling. “He would positively accompany 
me. Your husband, Nefert, is his model, and I had no 
peace in the house, for we came to bring you good 
news.” 

“From Mena?” asked the young wife, pressing her 
hand to her heart. 

“As you say,” returned Bent-Anat. “My father 
praises his ability, and writes that he, before all others, 
will have his choice at the dividing of the spoil.” 

Nefert threw a triumphant glance at her mother, 
and Katuti drew a deep breath. 

Bent-Anat stroked Nefert’s cheeks like those of 
a child. Then she turned to Katuti, led her into 
the garden, and begged her to aid her, who had so 


UARDA. 165 

early lost her mother, with her advice in a weighty 
matter. 

“ My father,” she continued, after a few introductory 
words, “informs me that the Regent Ani desires me 
for his wife, and advises me to reward the fidelity of 
the worthy man with my hand. He advises it, you 
understand—he does not command.” 

“And thou?” asked Katuti. 

“And I,” replied Bent-Anat decidedly, “must re¬ 
fuse him.” 

“ Thou must!” 

Bent-Anat made a sign of assent and went on: 

“ It is quite clear to me. I can do nothing else.” 

“ Then thou dost not need my counsel, since even 
thy father, I well know, will not be able to alter thy 
decision.” 

“No God even could alter this one !” said Bent- 
Anat firmly. “ But you are Ani’s friend, and, as I 
esteem him, I would save him this humiliation. En¬ 
deavor to persuade him to give up his suit. I will 
meet him as though I knew nothing of his letter to 
my father.” 

Katuti looked down reflectively. Then she said— 
“ The Regent certainly likes very well to pass his 
hours of leisure with me gossiping or playing draughts, 
but I do not know that I should dare to speak to him 
of so grave a matter.” 

“ Marriage-projects are women’s affairs,” said Bent- 
Anat, smiling. 

“ But the marriage of a princess is a state event,” 
replied the widow. “ In this case it is true the *uncle 
only courts his niece, who is dear to him, and who he 

* Among the Orientals—and even the Spaniards—it was and is common to 
give the name of uncle to a parent’s cousin. A ote to Am. Edition. 


UARDA. 


166 

hopes will make the second half of his life the brightest. 
Ani is kind and without severity. Thou would’st win 
in him a husband, who would wait on thy looks, and 
bow willingly to thy strong will.” 

Bent-Anat’s eyes flashed, and she hastily exclaimed: 
“ That is exactly what forces the decisive irrevocable 
4 No ’ to my lips. Do you think that because I am as 
proud as my mother, and resolute like my father, that 
I wish for a husband whom I could govern and lead 
as I would ? How little you know me! I will be 
obeyed by my dogs, my servants, my officers, if the 
Gods so will it, by my children. Abject beings, who 
will kiss my feet, I meet on every road, and can buy 
by the hundred, if I wish it, in the slave market. I 
may be courted twenty times, and reject twenty suitors, 
but not because I fear that they might bend my pride 
and my will; on the contrary, because I feel them in¬ 
creased. The man to whom I could wish to offer my 
hand must be of a loftier stamp, must be greater, 
firmer, and better than I, and I will flutter after the 
mighty wing-strokes of his spirit, and smile at my own 
weakness, and glory in admiring his superiority.” 

Katuti listened to the maiden with the smile by 
which the experienced love to signify their superiority 
over the visionary. 

“Ancient times may have produced such men,” 
she said. “ But if in these days thou thinkest to find 
one, thou wilt wear the lock of youth,* till thou art 
grey. Our thinkers are no heroes, and our heroes are 
no sages. Here come thy brother and Nefert.” 

* The lock of youth was a curl of hair which all the younger members of 
princely families wore at the side of the head. The young Horus is represented 
with it. 


UARDA. 167 

“Will you persuade Ani to give up his suit!” said 
the princess urgently. 

“I will endeavor to do so, for thy sake,” replied 
Katuti. Then, turning half to the young Rameri and 
half to his sister, she said: 

“The chief of the House of Seti, Ameni, was in 
his youth such a man as thou paintest, Bent-Anat. 
Tell us, thou son of Rameses, that art growing up 
under the young sycamores, which shall some day 
over-shadow the land—whom dost thou esteem the 
highest among thy companions? Is there one among 
them, who is conspicuous above them all for a lofty 
spirit and strength of intellect?” 

The young Rameri looked gaily at the speaker, 
and said laughing: “We are all much alike, and do 
more or less willingly what we are compelled, and by 
preference every thing that we ought not.” 

“A mighty soul—a youth, who promises to be a 
second* Snefru, aThotmes,or even an Ameni ? Dost thou 
know none such in the House of Seti?” asked the widow. 

“ Oh yes!” cried Rameri with eager certainty. 

“And he is—?” asked Katuti. 

“ Pentaur, the poet,” exclaimed the youth. Bent- . 
Anat’s face glowed with scarlet color, while her 
brother went on to explain. 

“ He is noble and of a lofty soul, and all the Gods 
dwell in him when he speaks. Formerly we used to 
go to sleep in the lecture-hall; but his words carry us 
away, and if we do not take in the full meaning of his 
thoughts, yet we feel that they are genuine and noble.” 

* The 1st king of the 4th dynasty, who to a late date was held in high 
honor, and of whom it is said in several places that “ the like has not been 
seen since the days of Snefru.” The monuments of his time are the earliest 
which have generally come down to us. Up to a late period certain priests were 
specially assigned to the worship of his Manes. 


UARDA. 


168 


Bent-Anat breathed quicker at these words, and 
her eyes hung on the boy’s lips. 

“You know him, Bent-Anat,” continued Rameri. 
“He was with you at the paraschites’ house, and in the 
temple-court when Ameni pronounced you unclean. He 
is as tall and handsome as the God Menth,* and I 
feel that he is one of those whom we can never forget 
when once we have seen them. Yesterday, after you 
had left the temple, he spoke as he never spoke be¬ 
fore; he poured fire into our souls. Do not laugh, 
Katuti, I feel it burning still. This morning we were 
informed that he had been sent from the temple, who 
knows where—and had left us a message of farewell. 
It was not thought at all necessary to communicate the 
reason to us; but we know more than the masters 
think. He did not reprove you strongly enough, Bent- 
Anat, and therefore he is driven out of the House of 
Seti. We have agreed to combine to ask for him to 
be recalled; Anana is drawing up a letter to the chief 
priest, which we shall all subscribe. It would turn out 
badly for one alone, but they cannot be at all of us at 
once. Very likely they will have the sense to recall 
. him. If not, we shall all complain to our fathers, and 
they are not the meanest in the land.” 

“ It is a complete rebellion,” cried Katuti. “ Take 
care, you lordlings; Ameni and the other prophets are 
not to be trifled with.” 

“ Nor we either,” said Rameri laughing, “ If Pen- 
taur is kept in banishment, I shall appeal to my father 
to place me at the school at Heliopolis or Chennu, 
and the others will follow me. Come, Bent-Anat, I 
must be back in the trap before sunset. Excuse me, 

* Menth, the Egyptian God of War. 


UARDA. 169 

Katuti, so we call the school. Here comes your little 
Nemu.” 

The brother and sister left the garden. 

As soon as the ladies, who accompanied them, had 
turned their backs, Bent-Anat grasped her brother’s 
hand with unaccustomed warmth, and said: 

“Avoid all imprudence; but your demand is just, 
and I will help you with all my heart.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

As soon as Bent-Anat had quitted Mena’s domain, 
the dwarf Nemu entered the garden with a letter, and 
briefly related his adventures; but in such a comical 
fashion that both the ladies laughed, and Katuti, with 
a lively gaiety, which was usually foreign to her, while 
she warned him, at the same time praised his acute¬ 
ness. She looked at the seal of the letter and said: 

“This is a lucky day; it has brought us great things, 
and the promise of greater things in the future.” 

Nefert came close up to her and said imploringly: 
“Open the letter, and see if there is nothing in it from 
him.” 

Katuti unfastened the wax, looked through the 
letter with a hasty glance, stroked the cheek of her 
child, and said: 

“Perhaps your brother has written for him; I see 
no line in his handwriting.” 

Nefert on her side glanced at the letter, but not to 
read it, only to seek some trace of the well-known 
handwriting of her husband. 

Like all the Egyptian women of good family she 
12 


UARDA. 


170 

could read, and during the first two years of her mar¬ 
ried life she had often—very often—had the oppor¬ 
tunity of puzzling, and yet rejoicing, over the feeble 
signs which the iron hand of the charioteer had 
scrawled on the papyrus for her whose slender fingers 
could guide the reed pen with firmness and decision. 

She examined the letter, and at last said, with 
tears in her eyes: 

“Nothing! I will go to my room, mother.” 

Katuti kissed her and said, “ Hear first what your 
brother writes.” 

But Nefert shook her head, turned away in silence, 
and disappeared into the house. 

Katuti was not very friendly to her son-in-law, but 
her heart clung to her handsome, reckless son, the 
very image of her lost husband, the favorite of women, 
and the gayest youth among the young nobles who 
composed the chariot-guard of the king. 

How fully he had written to-day—he who wielded 
the reed-pen so laboriously. 

This really was a letter; while, usually, he only 
asked in the fewest words for fresh funds for the 
gratification of his extravagant tastes. 

This time she might look for thanks, for not long 
since he must have received a considerable supply, 
which she had abstracted from the income of the pos¬ 
sessions entrusted to her by her son-in-law. 

She began to read. 

The cheerfulness, with which she had met the 
dwarf, was insincere, and had resembled the brilliant 
colors of the rainbow, which gleam over the stagnant 
waters of a bog. A stone falls into the pool, the 


UARDA. 


171 

colors vanish, dim mists rise up, and it becomes foul 
and clouded. 

The news which her son’s letter contained fell, in¬ 
deed, like a block of stone on Katuti’s soul. 

Our deepest sorrows always flow from the same 
source as might have filled us with joy, and those 
wounds burn the fiercest which are inflicted by a 
hand we love. 

The farther Katuti went in the lamentably incor¬ 
rect epistle—which she could only decipher with diffi¬ 
culty—which her darling had written to her, the paler 
grew her face, which she several times covered with 
her trembling hands, from which the letter dropped. 

Nemu squatted on the earth near her, and followed 
all her movements. 

When she sprang forward with a heart-piercing 
scream, and pressed her forehead to a rough palm- 
trunk, he crept up to her, kissed her feet, and exclaimed 
with a depth of feeling that overcame even Katuti, 
who was accustomed to hear only gay or bitter speeches 
from the lips of her jester— 

“Mistress! lady! what has happened?” 

Katuti collected herself, turned to him, and tried to 
speak; but her pale lips remained closed, and her eyes 
gazed dimly into vacancy as though a catalepsy had 
seized her. 

“Mistress! Mistress!” cried the dwarf again, with 
growing agitation. “What is the matter? shall I call 
thy daughter?” 

Katuti made a sign with her hand, and cried feebly: 
“The wretches! the reprobates!” 

Her breath began to come quickly, the blood 
mounted to her cheeks and her flashing eyes; she trod 


UARDA. 


17I 

upon the letter, and wept so loud and passionately* 
that the dwarf, who had never before seen tears in 
her eyes, raised himself timidly, and said in mild re¬ 
proach : “ Katuti! ” 

She laughed bitterly, and said with a trembling 
voice: 

“Why do you call my name so loud! it is dis' 
graced and degraded. How the nobles and the ladie;- 
will rejoice! Now envy can point at us with spitefin 
joy—and a minute ago I was praising this day! They 
say one should exhibit one’s happiness in the streets, 
and conceal one’s misery; on the contrary, on the con¬ 
trary! Even the Gods should not know of one’s hopes 
and joys, for they too are envious and spiteful!” 

Again she leaned her head against the palm-tree. 

“Thou speakest of shame, and not of death,” said 
Nemu, “ and I learned from thee that one should give 
nothing up for lost excepting the dead.” 

These words had a powerful effect on the agitated 
woman. Quickly and vehemently she turned upon the 
dwarf saying. 

“You are clever, and faithful too, so listen! but if 
you were Amon himself there is nothing to be done—’* 

“We must try,” said Nemu, and his sharp eyes met 
those of his mistress. 

“Speak,” he said, and trust me. Perhaps I can 
be of no use; but that I can be silent thou knowest.” 

“Before long the children in the streets will talk 
of what this tells me,” said Katuti, laughing with bitter¬ 
ness, “only Nefert must know nothing of what has 
happened—nothing, mind; what is that? the Regent 
coming! quick, fly; tell him I am suddenly taken ill. 


UARDA. 


173 


very ill; I cannot see him, not now! No one is to be 
admitted—no one, do you hear ?” 

The dwarf went. 

When he came back after he had fulfilled his 
errand, he found his mistress still in a fever of ex¬ 
citement. 

“Listen,” she said; “first the smaller matter, then 
the frightful, the unspeakable. Rameses loads Mena 
with marks of his favor. It came to a division of the 
spoils of war for the year; a great heap of treasure lay 
ready for each of his followers, and the charioteer had 
to choose before all the others.” 

“Well?” said the dwarf. 

“ Well 1” echoed Katuti. “ Well! how did the worthy 
householder care for his belongings at home, how did 
he seek to relieve his indebted estate ? It is disgrace¬ 
ful, hideous! He passed by the silver, the gold, the 
jewels, with a laugh; and took the captive daughter of 
the Danaid princes, and led her into his tent.” 

“ Shameful!” muttered the dwarf. 

“Poor, poor Nefert!” cried Katuti, covering her 
face with her hands. 

“And what more ?” asked Nemu hastily. 

“ That,” said Katuti, “ that is—but I will keep calm 
—quite calm and quiet. You know my son. He is 
heedless, but he loves me and his sister more than 
anything in the world. I, fool as I was, to persuade 
him to economy, had vividly described our evil plight, 
and after that disgraceful conduct of Mena he thought 
of us and of our anxieties. His share of the booty 
was small, and could not help us. Plis comrades threw 
dice for the shares they had obtained—he staked his to 
win more for us. He lost—all—all—and at last against 


i 7 4 


UARDA. 


an enormous sum, still thinking of us, and only of us, 
he staked the mummy of his dead father.* He lost. If 
he does not redeem the pledge before the expiration 
of the third month, he will fall into infamy,** the 
mummy will belong to the winner, and disgrace and 
ignominy will be my lot and his.” 

Katuti pressed her hands on her face, the dwarf 
muttered to himself, “ The gambler and hypocrite!” 

Whan his mistress had grown calmer, he said: 

“ It is horrible, yet all is not lost. How much is 
the debt ?” 

It sounded like a heavy curse, when Katuti replied, 
“Thirty Babylonian talents.”*** 

The dwarf cried out, as if an asp had stung him. 
“Who dared to bid against such a mad stake?” 

“The Lady Hathor’s son, Antef,” answered Katuti, 
“who has already gambled away the inheritance of his 
fathers, in Thebes.” 

“ He will not remit one grain of wheat of his claim,” 
cried the dwarf. “And Mena?” 

“ How could my son turn to him after what had 
happened ? The poor child implores me to ask the 
assistance of the Regent.” 

“Of the Regent?” said the dwarf, shaking his big 
head. “ Impossible!” 

“I know, as matters now stand; but his place, his 
name.” 

* It was a king of the fourth dynasty, named Asychis by Herodotus, who 
it is admitted was the first to pledge the mummies of his ancestors. “ He whc 
stakes this pledge and fails to redeem the debt shall, after his death, res 
neither in his father’s tomb nor in any other, and sepulture shall be denied to 
his descendants.” Herod, n. 136. 

** This it would appear was the heaviest punishment which could fall on 
an Egyptian Soldier. Diod. x. 78. 

*** £ 6,750 sterling. 


UARDA. 


*75 


u Mistress,” said the dwarf, and deep purpose rang 
in the words, “do not spoil the future for the sake of 
the present. If thy son loses his honor under King 
Rameses, the future King, Ani, may restore it to him. 
If the Regent now renders you all an important ser¬ 
vice, he will regard you as amply paid when our efforts 
have succeeded, and he sits on the throne. He lets 
himself be led by thee now because thou hast no need 
of his help, and dost seem to work only for his sake, 
and for his elevation. As soon as thou hast appealed 
to him, and he has assisted thee, all thy confidence 
and freedom will be gone, and the more difficult he 
finds it to raise so large a sum of money at once, 
the angrier he will be to think that thou art making 
use of him. Thou knowest his circumstances.” 

“He is in debt,” said Katuti. “I know that.” 

“Thou should’st know it,” cried the dwarf, “for 
thou thyself hast forced him to enormous expenses. 
He has won the people of Thebes with dazzling 
festive displays; as guardian of Apis* he gave a large 
donation to Memphis; he bestowed thousands on the 
leaders of the troops sent into Ethiopia, which were 
equipped by him; what his spies cost him at the 
camp of the king, thou knowest. He has borrowed 
sums of money from most of the rich men in the 
country, and that is well, for so many creditors are so 
many allies. The Regent is a bad debtor; but the 
king Ani, they reckon, will be a grateful payer.” 

Katuti looked at the dwarf in astonishment. 

“You know men!” she said. 

* When Apis (the sacred bull) died under Ptolemy I. Soter, his keepers 
spent not only the money which they had received for his maintenance, in his 
obsequies, but borrowed 50 talents of silver (,£11,250) from the king. In the 
time of Diodorus 100 talents were spent for the same purpose. 


176 


UARDA. 


“To my sorrow!” replied Nemu. “Do not apply to 
the Regent, and before thou dost sacrifice the labor 
of years, and thy future greatness, and that of those 
near to thee, sacrifice thy son’s honor.” 

“And my husband’s, and my own?” exclaimed 
Katuti. “ How can you know what that is! Honor 
is a word that the slave may utter, but whose meaning 
he can never comprehend; you rub the weals that 
are raised on you by blows; to me every finger pointed 
at me in scorn makes a wound like an ashwood lance 
with a poisoned tip of brass. Oh ye holy Gods! who 
can help us ?” 

The miserable woman pressed her hands over her 
eyes, as if to shut out the sight of her own disgrace. 

The dwarf looked at her compassionately, and said 
in a changed tone: 

“ Dost thou remember the diamond which fell out 
of Nefert’s handsomest ring? We hunted for it, and 
could not find it. Next day, as I was going through 
the room, I trod on something hard; I stooped down 
and found the stone. What the noble organ of sight, 
the eye, overlooked, the callous despised sole of the 
foot found; and perhaps the small slave, Nemu, who 
knows nothing of honor, may succeed in finding a 
mode of escape which is not revealed to the lofty 
soul of his mistress!’ 

“What are you thinking of?” asked Katuti. 

“ Escape,” answered the dwarf. “ Is it true that 
thy sister Setchem has visited thee, and that you are 
reconciled ?” 

“ She offered me her hand, and I took it!’ 

“ Then go to her. Men are never more helpful 
than after a reconciliation. The enmity they have 


UARDA. 


177 


driven out, seems to leave as it were a freshly-healed 
wound which must be touched with caution; and 
Setchem is of thy own blood, and kind-hearted.” 

“ She is not rich,” replied Katuti. “ Every palm in 
her garden comes from her husband, and belongs to 
her children.” 

“ Paaker, too, was with you ?” 

“ Certainly only by the entreaty of his mother—he 
hates my son-in-law.” 

“I know it,” muttered the dwarf, “but if Nefert 
would ask him ?” 

The widow drew herself up indignantly. She felt 
that she had allowed the dwarf too much freedom, 
and ordered him to leave her alone. 

Nemu kissed her robe and asked timidly— 

“ Shall I forget that thou hast trusted me, or am I 
permitted to consider further as to thy son’s safety ?” 

Katuti stood for a moment undecided, then she 
said— 

“You were clever enough to find what I carelessly 
dropped; perhaps some God may show you what I 
ought to do. Now leave me.” 

“ Wilt thou want me early to-morrow ?” 

« No.” 

“Then I will go to the Necropolis, and offer a 
sacrifice.” 

“ Go!” said Katuti, and went towards the house 
with the fatal letter in her hand. 

Nemu stayed behind alone; he looked thoughtfully 
at the ground, murmuring to himself. 

“She must not lose her honor; not at present, 
or indeed all will be lost. What is this honor ? We 
all come into the world without it, and most of us go 


178 


UARDA. 


to the grave without knowing it, and very good folks 
notwithstanding. Only a few who are rich and idle 
weave it in with the homely stuff of their souls, as the 
Kuschites* do their hair with grease and oils, till it 
forms a cap of which, though it disfigures them, they 
are so proud that they would rather have their ears 
cut off than the monstrous thing. I see, I see—but 
before I open my mouth I will go to my mother. 
She knows more than twenty prophets.” 

CHAPTER XII. 

Before the sun had risen the next morning, Nemu 
got himself ferried over the Nile, with the small white 
ass which Mena’s deceased father had given him many 
years before. He availed himself of the cool hour 
which precedes the rising of the sun for his ride 
through the Necropolis. 

Well acquainted as he was with every stock and 
stone, he avoided the high roads which led to the 
goal of his expedition, and trotted towards the hill 
which divides the valley of the royal tombs from the 
plain of the Nile. 

Before him opened a noble amphitheatre of lofty 
lime-stone peaks, the background of the stately terrace- 
temple which the proud ancestress of two kings of the 
fallen family, the great Hatasu, had erected to their 
memory, and to the Goddess Hathor. 

Nemu left the sanctuary to his left, and rode up 
the steep hill-path which was the nearest way from the 
plain to the valley of the tombs. 

* The monuments show us that the ancient negroes of the upper Nile were 
devoted to these repulsive fashions as their modern descendants are. 


UARDA. 


179 


Below him lay a bird’s eye view of the terrace¬ 
building of Hatasu, and before him, still slumbering 
in cool dawn, was the Necropolis with its houses and 
temples and colossal statues, the broad Nile glistening 
with white sails under the morning mist; and, in the 
distant east, rosy with the coming sun, stood Thebes 
and her gigantic temples. 

But the dwarf saw nothing of the glorious pano¬ 
rama that lay at his feet; absorbed in thought, and 
stooping over the neck of his ass, he let the panting 
beast climb and rest at its pleasure. 

When he had reached half the height of the hill, 
he perceived the sound of footsteps coming nearer and 
nearer to him. 

The vigorous walker had soon reached him, and 
bid him good morning, which he civilly returned. 

The hill-path was narrow, and when Nemu ob¬ 
served that the man who followed him was a priest, 
he drew up his donkey on a level spot, and said 
reverently— 

“Pass on, holy father; for thy two feet carry thee 
quicker than my four.” 

“A sufferer needs my help,” replied the leech 
Nebsecht, Pentaur’s friend, whom we have already 
seen in the House of Seti, and by the bed of the 
paraschites’ daughter; and he hastened on so as to 
gain on the slow pace of the rider. 

Then rose the glowing disk of the sun above the 
eastern horizon, and from the sanctuaries below the 
travellers rose up the pious many-voiced chant of 
praise. 

Nemu slipped off his ass, and assumed an attitude 
of prayer; the priest did the same; but while the 


i 8 o 


UARDA. 


dwarf devoutly fixed his eyes on the new birth of the 
Sun-God from the eastern range, the priest’s eyes 
wandered to the earth, and his raised hand fell to 
pick up a rare fossil shell which lay on the path. 

In a few minutes Nebsecht rose, and Nemu fol¬ 
lowed him. 

“ It is a fine morning,” said the dwarf; “ the holy 
fathers down there seem more cheerful to-day than 
usual.” 

The surgeon laughed assent. “ Do you belong to 
the Necropolis ?” he said. “ Who here keeps dwarfs ?” 

“No one,” answered the little man. “ But I will 
ask thee a question. Who that lives here behind the 
hill is of so much importance, that a leech from the 
House of Seti sacrifices his night’s rest for him ?” 

“ The one I visit is mean, but the suffering is 
great,” answered Nebsecht. 

Nemu looked at him with admiration, and muttered, 

“ That is noble, that is-” but he did not finish his 

speech; he struck his brow and exclaimed, “You are 
going, by the desire of the Princess Bent-An at, to the 
child of the paraschites that was run over. I guessed 
as much. The food must have an excellent after-taste, 
if a gentleman rises so early to eat it. How is the 
poor child doing ?” 

There was so much warmth in these last words 
that Nebsecht, who had thought the dwarf’s reproach 
uncalled for, answered in a friendly tone— 

“ Not so badly; she may be saved.” 

“The Gods be praised!” exclaimed Nemu, while 
the priest passed on. 

Nebsecht went up and down the hillside at a re¬ 
doubled pace, and had long taken his place by the 



UARDA. 


181 

couch of the wounded Uarda in the hovel of the para- 
shites, when Nemu drew near to the abode of his 
Mother Hekt, from whom Paaker had received the 
philter. 

The old woman sat before the door of her cave. 

Near her lay a board, fitted with cross pieces, be¬ 
tween which a little boy was stretched in such a way 
that they touched his head and his feet. 

Hekt understood the art of making dwarfs; play¬ 
things in human form were well paid for, and the child 
on the rack, with his pretty little face, promised to be 
a valuable article. 

As soon as the sorceress saw some one approaching, 
she stooped over the child, took him up board and all 
in her arms, and carried him into the cave. Then she 
said sternly: 

“If you move, little one, I will flog you. Now let 
me tie you.” 

“ Don’t tie me,” said the child, “ I will be good 
and lie still.” 

“Stretch yourself out,” ordered the old woman, 
and tied the child with a rope to the board. “If you 
are quiet, I’ll give you a honey-cake by-and-bye, and 
let you play with the young chickens.” 

The child was quiet, and a soft smile of delight 
and hope sparkled in his pretty eyes. His little hand 
caught the dress of the old woman, and with the 
sweetest coaxing tone, which God bestows on the inno¬ 
cent voices of children, he said: 

“I will be as still as a mouse, and no one shall 
know that I am here; but if you give me the honey- 
cake you will untie me for a little, and let me go to 
Uarda.” 


182 


UARDA. 


“She is ill!—what do you want there?” 

“I would take her the cake,’* said the child, and 
his eyes glistened with tears. 

The old woman touched the child’s chin with her 
finger, and some mysterious power prompted her to 
bend over him to kiss him. But before her lips had 
touched his face she turned away, and said, in a hard 
tone: 

“Lie still! by and bye we will see.” Then she 
stooped, and threw a brown sack over the child. She 
went back into the open air, greeted Nemu, entertained 
him with milk, bread and honey, gave him news of the 
girl who had been run over, for he seemed to take 
her misfortune very much to heart, and finally asked: 

“What brings you here? The Nile was still narrow 
when you last found your way to me, and now it has 
been falling some time.* Are you sent by your mis¬ 
tress, or do you want my help ? All the world is alike. 
No one goes to see any one else unless he wants to 
make use of him. What shall I give you ?” 

“ I want nothing,” said the dwarf, “ but—” 

“You are commissioned by a third person,” said 
the witch, laughing. “ It is the same thing. Whoever 
wants a thing for some one else only thinks of his own 
interest.” 

“Maybe,” said Nemu. “At any rate your words 
show that you have not grown less wise since I saw you 
last—and I am glad of it, for I want your advice.” 

* This is the beginning of November. The Nile begins slowly to rise 
early in June; between the 15th and 20th of July it suddenly swells rapidly, and 
in the first half of October, not, as was formerly supposed, at the end of Sep¬ 
tember, the inundation reaches its highest level. Heinrich Barth established 
these data beyond dispute. After the water has begun to sink it rises once 
more in October and to a higher level than before. Then it soon falls, at first 
slowly, but by degrees quicker and quicker. 


UARDA. 


1^3 

“Advice is cheap. What is going on out there?” 
Nemu related to his mother shortly, clearly, and with¬ 
out reserve, what was plotting in his mistress’s house, 
and the frightful disgrace with which she was threatened 
through her son. 

The old woman shook her grey head thoughtfully 
several times: but she let the little man go on to the 
end of his story without interrupting him. Then she 
asked, and her eyes flashed as she spoke: 

“And you really believe that you will succeed in 
putting the sparrow on the eagle’s perch—Ani on the 
throne of Rameses ?” 

“ The troops fighting in Ethiopia are for us,” cried 
Nemu. “The priests declare themselves against the 
king, and recognize in Ani the genuine blood of Ra.” 

“That is much,” said the old woman. 

“And many dogs are the death of the gazelle,” 
said Nemu laughing. 

“ But Rameses is not a gazelle to run, but a 
lion,” said the old woman gravely. “You are playing 
a high game.” 

“ We know it,” answered Nemu. “ But it is for 
high stakes—there is much to win.” 

“And all to lose,” muttered the old woman, passing 
her fingers round her scraggy neck. “ Well, do as you 
please—it is all the same to me who it is sends the 
young to be killed, and drives the old folks’ cattle from 
the field. What do they want with me ?” 

“No one has sent me,” answered the dwarf. “I 
come of my own free fancy to ask you what Katuti 
must do to save her son and her house from dis¬ 
honor.” 

“ Hm!” hummed the witch, looking at Nemu while 


184 


UARDA. 


she raised herself on her stick. “ What has come to 
you that you take the fate of these great people to 
heart as if it were your own ?” 

The dwarf reddened, and answered hesitatingly—- 

“ Katuti is a good mistress, and, if things go well with 
her, there may be windfalls for you and me.” 

Hekt shook her head doubtfully. 

“A loaf for you perhaps, and a crumb for me!” she 
said. “ There is more than that in your mind, and I 
can read your heart as if you were a ripped up raven. 
You are one of those who can never keep, their fingers 
at rest, and must knead everybody’s dough; must push, 
and drive and stir something. Every jacket is too tight 
for you. If you were three feet taller, and the son of 
a priest, you might have gone far. High you will go, 
and high you will end; as the friend of a king—or on 
the gallows.” 

The old woman laughed; but Nemu bit his lips, 
and said: 

“ If you had sent me to school, and if I were not 
the son of a witch, and a dwarf, I would play with 
men as they have played with me; for I am cleverer 
than all of them, and none of their plans are hidden 
from me. A hundred roads lie before me, when they 
don’t know whether to go out or in; and where they 
rush heedlessly forwards I see the abyss that they are 
running to.” 

“And nevertheless you come to me?” said the old 
woman sarcastically. 

“ I want your advice,” said Nemu seriously. “ Four 
eyes see more than one, and the impartial looker-on 
sees clearer than the player; besides you are bound to 
help me.” 


UARDA. 


185 

The old woman laughed loud in astonishment. 
“Bound!” she said, “I ? and to what if you please?” 

“To help me,” replied the dwarf, half in entreaty, 
and half in reproach. “ You deprived me of my growth, 
and reduced me to a cripple.” 

“ Because no one is better off than you dwarfs,” 
interrupted the witch. 

Nemu shook his head, and answered sadly— 

“You have often said so—and perhaps for many 
others, who are born in misery like me—perhaps—you 
are right; but for me—you have spoilt my life; you 
have crippled not my body only but my soul, and have 
condemned me to sufferings that are nameless and un¬ 
utterable.” 

The dwarf’s big head sank on his breast, and with 
his left hand he pressed his heart. 

The old woman went up to him kindly. 

“ What ails you ?” she asked, “ I thought it was well 
with you in Mena’s house.” 

“You thought so?” cried the dwarf. “You who 
show me as in a mirror what I am, and how mys¬ 
terious powers throng and stir in me? You made me 
what I am by your arts; you sold me to the treasurer 
of Rameses, and he gave me to the father of Mena, 
his brother-in-law. Fifteen years ago! I was a young 
man then, a youth like any other, only more passionate, 
more restless, and fiery than they. I was given as a 
plaything to the young Mena, and he harnessed me to 
his little chariot, and dressed me out with ribbons and 
feathers, and flogged me when I did not go fast enough. 
How the girl—for whom I would have given my life— 
the porter’s daughter, laughed when I, dressed up in 
motley, hopped panting in front of the chariot, and the 
*3 


UARDA. 


186 

young lord’s whip whistled in my ears wringing the sweat 
from my brow, and the blood from my broken heart. 
Then Mena’s father died, the boy went to school, and I 
waited on the wife of his steward, whom Katuti ban¬ 
ished to Hermonthis. That was a time! The little 
daughter of the house made a doll* of me, laid me in 
the cradle, and made me shut my eyes and pretend to 
sleep, while love and hatred, and great projects were 
strong within me. If I tried to resist they beat me with 
rods; and when once, in a rage, I forgot myself, and 
hit little Mertitefs hard, Mena, who came in, hung me 
up in the store-room to a nail by my girdle, and left me 
to swing there; he said he had forgotten to take me 
down again. The rats fell upon me; here are the scars, 
these little white spots here—look! They perhaps will 
some day wear out, but the wounds that my spirit re¬ 
ceived in those hours have not yet ceased to bleed. 
Then Mena married Nefert, and, with her, his mother- 
in-law, Katuti, came into the house. She took me from 
the steward, I became indispensable to her; she treats 
me like a man, she values my intelligence and listens to 
my advice,—therefore I will make her great, and with 
her, and through her, I will wax mighty. If Ani mounts 
the throne, we will guide him—you, and I, and she! 
Rameses must fall, and with him Mena, the boy who 
degraded my body and poisoned my soul! ” 

During this speech the old woman had stood in 
silence opposite the dwarf. Now she sat down on her 
rough wooden seat, and said, while she proceeded to 
pluck a lapwing: 

“ Now I understand you; you wish to be revenged. 

* Dolls belonging to the time of the Pharaohs are preserved in the museums, 
for instance, the jointed ones at Leyden. 


UARDA. 


187 

You hope to rise high, and I am to whet your knife, 
and hold the ladder for you. Poor little man ! there, sit 
down—drink a gulp of milk to cool you, and listen to my 
advice. Katuti wants a great deal of money to escape 
dishonor. She need only pick it up—it lies at her door.” 

The dwarf looked at the witch in astonishment. 

“ The Mohar Paaker is her sister Setchem’s son. Is 
he not ?” 

“ As you say.” 

“ Katuti’s daughter Nefert is the wife of your master 
Mena, and another would like to tempt the neglected 
little hen into his yard.” 

“ You mean Paaker, to whom Nefert was promised 
before she went after Mena.” 

“ Paaker was with me the day before yesterday.” 

“ With you ?” 

“ Yes, with me, with old Hekt—to buy a love philter. 
I gave him one, and as I was curious I went after him, 
saw him give the water to the little lady, and found out 
her name.” 

“And Nefert drank the magic drink?” asked the 
dwarf horrified. 

“ Vinegar and turnip juice,” laughed the old witch. 
“ A lord who comes to me to win a wife is ripe for any¬ 
thing. Let Nefert ask Paaker for the money, and the 
young scapegrace’s debts are paid.” 

“ Katuti is proud, and repulsed me severely when I 
proposed this.” 

“ Then she must sue to Paaker herself for the money. 
Go back to him, make him hope that Nefert is inclined 
to him, tell him what distresses the ladies, and if he re¬ 
fuses, but only if he refuses, let him see that you know 
something of the little dose.” 


UARDA. 


188 


The dwarf looked meditatively on the ground, and 
then said, looking admiringly at the old woman: “ That 
is the right thing.” 

“ You will find out the lie without my telling you,” 
mumbled the witch; “your business is not perhaps such a 
bad one as it seemed to me at first. Katuti may thank 
the ne’er-do-well who staked his father’s corpse. You 
don’t understand me ? Well, if you are really the sharp¬ 
est of them all over there, what must the others be ? ” 

“ You mean that people will speak well of my mis¬ 
tress for sacrificing so large a sum for the sake— ?” 

“ Whose sake ? why speak well of her ?” cried the 
old woman impatiently. “ Here we deal with other 
things, with actual facts. There stands Paaker—there 
the wife of Mena. If the Mohar sacrifices a fortune 
for Nefert, he will be her master, and Katuti will not 
stand in his way; she knows well enough why her 
nephew pays for her. But some one else stops the 
way, and that is Mena. It is worth while to get him 
out of the way. The charioteer stands close to the 
Pharaoh, and the noose that is flung at one may easily 
fall round the neck of the other too. Make the Mohar 
your ally, and it may easily happen that your rat-bites 
may be paid for with mortal wounds, and Rameses 
who, if you marched against him openly, might blow 
you to the ground, may be hit by a lance thrown from 
an ambush. When the throne is clear, the weak legs of 
the Regent may succeed in clambering up to it with the 
help of the priests. Here you sit—open-mouthed; and 
I have told you nothing that you might not have found 
out for yourself.” 

“ You are a perfect cask of wisdom! ” exclaimed the 
dwarf. 


UARDA. 


189 


“ And now you will go away,” said Hekt, “ and 
reveal your schemes to your mistress and the Regent, 
and they will be astonished at your cleverness. To-day 
you still know that I have shown you what you have 
to do; to-morrow you will have forgotten it; and the 
day after to-morrow you will believe yourself possessed 
by the inspiration of the nine great Gods. I know that; 
but I cannot give anything for nothing. You live by 
your smallness, another makes his living with his hard 
hands, I earn my scanty bread by the thoughts of my 
brain. Listen! when you have half won Paaker, and 
Ani shows himself inclined to make use of him, then say 
to him that I may know a secret—and I do know one, 
I alone—which may make the Mohar the sport of his 
wishes, and that I may be disposed to sell it.” 

“ That shall be done! certainly, mother,” cried the 
dwarf. “ What do you wish for ? ” 

“ Very little,” said the old woman. “ Only a permit 
that makes me free to do and to practise whatever I 
please, unmolested even by the priests, and to receive 
an honorable burial after my death.” 

“ The Regent will hardly agree to that; for he must 
avoid everything that may offend the servants of the 
Gods.” 

“ And do everything,” retorted the old woman, “ that 
can degrade Rameses in their sight. Ani, do you hear, 
need not write me a new license, but only renew the old 
one granted to me by Rameses when I cured his favor¬ 
ite horse. They burnt it with my other possessions, 
when they plundered my house, and denounced me and 
my belongings for sorcery. The permit of Rameses is 
what I want, nothing more.” 

“ You shall have it,” said the dwarf. “ Good-by; I 


190 


UARDA. 


am charged to look into the tomb of our house, and 
see whether the offerings for the dead are regularly 
set out; to pour out fresh essences and have various 
things renewed. When Sechet has ceased to rage, and 
it is cooler, I shall come by here again, for I should 
like to call on the paraschites, and see how the poor 
child is.” 


CHAPTER XIII. 

During this conversation two men had been busily 
occupied, in front of the paraschites* hut, in driving 
piles into the the earth, and stretching a torn linen cloth 
upon them. 

One of them, old Pinem,' whom we have seen 
tending his grandchild, requested the other from time 
to time to consider the sick girl and to work less 
noisily. 

After they had finished their simple task, and spread 
a couch of fresh straw under the awning, they too sat 
down on the earth, and looked at the hut before which 
the surgeon Nebsecht was sitting waiting till the sleep¬ 
ing girl should wake. 

“ Who is that ?” asked the leech of the old man, 
pointing to his young companion, a tall sunburnt soldier 
with a bushy red beard. 

“ My son,” replied the paraschites, “ who is just re¬ 
turned from Syria.” 

“ Uarda’s father?” asked Nebsecht. 

The soldier nodded assent, and said with a rough 
voice, but not without cordiality : 

“No one could guess it by looking at us—she is 


UARDA. 


I 9 I 

so white and rosy. Her mother was a foreigner, and she 
has turned out as delicate as she was. I am afraid 
to touch her with my little finger—and there comes a 
chariot over the brittle doll, and does not quite crush 
her, for she is still alive.” 

“ Without the help of this holy father,” said the 
paraschites, approaching the surgeon, and kissing his 
robe, “you would never have seen her alive again. 
May the Gods reward thee for what thou hast done for 
us poor folks!” 

“ And we can pay too,” cried the soldier, slapping 
a full purse that hung at his gridle. “ We have taken 
plunder in Syria, and I will buy a calf, and give it to 
thy temple.” 

“ Offer a beast of dough,* rather,” replied Neb- 
secht, “ and if you wish to show yourself grateful to 
me, give the money to your father, so that he may feed 
and nurse your child in accordance with my instruc¬ 
tions.” 

“ Hm,” murmured the soldier; he took the purse 
from his girdle, flourished it in his hand, and said, as he 
handed it to the paraschites: 

“ I should have liked to drink it! but take it, father, 
for the child and my mother.” 

While the old man hesitatingly put out his hand for 
the rich gift, the soldier recollected himself and said, 
opening the purse: 

“ Let me take out a few rings, for to-day I cannot 
go dry. I have two or three comrades lodging in the 
red Tavern. That is right. There,—take the rest of the 
rubbish.” 

* Hogs were sacrificed at the feasts of Selene (the Egyptian Nechebt). 
“ The poor offer pigs made of dough.”—Herodotus II., 47. Various kinds of 
cakes baked in the form of animals are represented on the monuments. 


192 


UARDA. 


Nebsecht nodded approvingly at the soldier, and 
he, as his father gratefully kissed the surgeon’s hand, 
exclaimed: 

“ Make the little one sound, holy father! It is all 
over with gifts and offerings, for I have nothing left; 
but there are two iron fists and a breast like the wall 
of a fortress. If at any time thou dost want help, 
call me, and I will protect thee against twenty enemies. 
Thou hast saved my child—good! Life for life. I 
sign myself thy blood-ally—there.” 

With these words he drew his poniard out of his 
girdle. He scratched his arm, and let a few drops of 
his blood run down on a stone at the feet of Nebsecht 
—“ Look,” he said. “ There is my bond, Kaschta has 
signed himself thine, and thou canst dispose of my life 
as of thine own. What I have said, I have said.” 

“ I am a man of peace,” Nebsecht stammered, 
“And my white robe protects me. But I believe our 
patient is awake.” 

The physician rose, and entered the hut. 

Uarda’s pretty head lay on her grandmother’s lap, 
and her large blue eyes turned contentedly on the 
priest. 

“ She- might get up and go out into the air,” said 
the old woman. “ She has slept long and soundly.” 

The surgeon examined her pulse, and her wound, 
on which green leaves were laid. 

“ Excellent,” he said; “ who gave you this healing 
herb ?” 

The old woman shuddered, and hesitated; but 
Uarda said fearlessly; “Old Hekt, who lives over there 
in the black cave.” 

“The witch!” muttered Nebsecht. “But we will 


UARDA, 


T 93 


let the leaves remain; if they do good, it is no matter 
where they came from.” 

“ Hekt tasted the drops thou didst give her,” said 
the old woman, “ and agreed that they were good.” 

“ Then we are satisfied with each other,” answered 
Nebsecht, with a smile of amusement. “We will carry 
you now into the open air, little maid; for the air in 
here is as heavy as lead, and your damaged lung re¬ 
quires lighter nourishment.” 

“Yes, let me go out,” said the girl. “It is well 
that thou hast not brought back the other with thee, 
who tormented me with his vows.” 

“You mean blind Teta,” said Nebsecht, “he will 
not come again; but the young priest who soothed 
your father, when he repulsed the princess, will visit 
you. He is kindly disposed, and you should—you 
should—” 

“ Pentaur will come ?” said the girl eagerly. 

“ Before midday. But how do you know his name?” 

“ I know him,” said Uarda decidedly. 

The surgeon looked at her surprised. 

“You must not talk any more,” he said, “for your 
cheeks are glowing, and the fever may return. We have 
arranged a tent for you, and now we will carry you 
into the open air.” 

“ Not yet,” said the girl. “ Grandmother, do my 
hair for me, it is so heavy.” 

With these words she endeavored to part her 
mass of long reddish-brown hair with her slender 
hands, and to free it from the straws that had got en¬ 
tangled in it. 

“ Lie still,” said the surgeon, in a warning voice. 

“ But it is so heavy,” said the sick girl, smiling and 

Uarda. /. 


194 


UARDA. 


showing Nebsecht her abundant wealth of golden hair 
as if it were a fatiguing burden. “ Come, grandmother, 
and help me.” 

The old woman leaned over the child, and combed 
her long locks carefully with a coarse comb made of 
grey horn, gently disengaged the straws from the 
golden tangle, and at last laid two thick long plaits on 
her granddaughter’s shoulders. 

Nebsecht knew that every movement of the 
wounded girl might do mischief, and his impulse was 
to stop the old woman’s proceedings, but his tongue 
seemed spell-bound. Surprised, motionless, and with 
crimson cheeks, he stood opposite the girl, and his 
eyes followed every movement of her hands with 
anxious observation. 

She did not notice him. 

When the old woman laid down the comb Uarda 
drew a long breath. 

“ Grandmother,” she said, “ give me the mirror.” 

The old woman brought a shard of dimly glazed, 
baked clay. The girl turned to the light, contemplated 
the undefined reflection for a moment, and said: 

“ I have not seen a flower for so long, grand¬ 
mother.” 

“Wait, child,” she replied; she took from a jug 
the rose, which the princess had laid on the bosom of 
her grandchild, and offered it to her. Before Uarda 
could take it, the withered petals fell, and dropped 
upon her. The surgeon stooped, gathered them up, 
and put them into the child’s hand. 

“How good you are!” she said; “I am called 
Uarda—like this flower—and I love roses and the 
fresh air. Will you carry me out now ?” 


UARDA. 


J 95 


Nebsecht called the paraschites, who came into 
the hut with his son, and they carried the girl out 
into the air, and laid her under the humble tent they 
had contrived for her. The soldier’s knees trembled 
while he held the light burden of his daughter’s 
weight in his strong hands, and he sighed when he laid 
her down on the mat. 

“ How blue the sky is!” cried Uarda. “Ah ! grand¬ 
father has watered my pomegranate, I thought so! and 
there come my doves! give me some corn in my 
hand, grandmother. How pleased they are.” 

The graceful birds, with black rings round their 
reddish-grey necks, flew confidingly to her, and took 
the corn that she playfully laid between her lips. 

Nebsecht looked on with astonishment at this 
pretty play. He felt as if a new world had opened to 
him, and some new sense, hitherto unknown to him, 
had been revealed to him within his breast. He 
silently sat down in front of the hut, and drew the pic¬ 
ture of a rose on the sand with a reed-stem that he 
picked up. 

Perfect stillness was around him; the doves even 
had flown up, and settled on the roof. Presently the 
dog barked, steps approached; Uarda lifted herself up 
and said: 

“ Grandmother, it is the priest Pentaur.” 

“Who told you ?” asked the old woman. 

“ I know it,” answered the girl decidedly, and in a 
few moments a sonorous voice cried: “ Good day to 
you. How is your invalid ?” 

Pentaur was soon standing by Uarda; pleased to 
hear Nebsecht’s good report, and with the sweet face 
of the girl. He had some flowers in his hand, that a 


196 


UARDA. 


happy maiden had laid on the altar of the Goddess 
Hathor, which he had served since the previous day, 
and he gave them to the sick girl, who took them with 
a blush, and held them between her clasped hands. 

“ The great Goddess whom I serve sends you 
these,” said Pentaur, “ and they will bring you heal¬ 
ing. Continue to resemble them. You are pure and 
fair like them, and your course henceforth may be like 
theirs. As the sun gives life to the grey horizon, so you 
bring joy to this dark hut. Preserve your innocence, 
and wherever you go you will bring love, as flowers 
spring in every spot that is trodden by the golden foot 
of Hathor.* May her blessing rest upon you!” 

He had spoken the last words half to the old 
couple and half to Uarda, and was already turning to 
depart when, behind a heap of dried reeds that lay 
close to the awning over the girl, the bitter cry of a 
child was heard, and a little boy came forward who 
held, as high as he could reach, a little cake, of which 
the dog, who seemed to know him well, had snatched 
half. 

“ How do you come here, Scherau ?” the paraschites 
asked the weeping boy; the unfortunate child that 
Hekt was bringing up as a dwarf. 

“ I wanted,” sobbed the little one, “ to bring the 
cake to Uarda. She is ill—I had so much—” 

“ Poor child,” said the paraschites, stroking the boy’s 
hair; “there—give it to Uarda.” 

Scherau went up to the sick girl, knelt down by her, 
and whispered with streaming eyes: 

“ Take it! It is good, and very sweet, and if I get 


* Hathor is frequently called "the golden ,' 1 particularly at Dendera. 
She has much in common with the “ golden Aphrodite.” 


UARDA. 


I 9 7 


another cake, and Hekt will let me out, I will bring it to 
you.” 

‘‘Thank you, good little Scherau,” said Uarda, 
kissing the child. Then she turned to Pentaur and 
said: 

“ For weeks he has had nothing but papyrus-pith,* 
and lotus-bread,* and now he brings me the cake which 
grandmother gave old Hekt yesterday.” 

The child blushed all over, and stammered: 

“ It is only half—but I did not touch it. Your dog 
bit out this piece, and this.” 

He touched the honey with the tip of his finger, and 
put it to his lips. “ I was a long time behind the reeds 
there, for I did not like to come out because of the 
strangers there.” He pointed to Nebsecht and Pentaur. 
“ But now I must go home,” he cried. 

The child was going, but Pentaur stopped him, seized 
him, lifted him up in his arms and kissed him; saying, as 
he turned to Nebsecht: 

“ They were wise, who represented Horus—the sym¬ 
bol of the triumph of good over evil and of purity over 
the impure—in the form of a child. Bless you, my little 
friend; be good, and always give away what you have 
to make others happy. It will not make your house 
rich—but it will your heart!” 

Scherau clung to the priest, and involuntarily raised 

* According to Herodotus II. 92., Diodorus 1. 8o., Pliny xm. 10. The 
Egyptiuns eat the lower part of the stem of the papyrus, at any rate the pith of 
it; by preference when it had been dried in the oven. Herodotus also tells us 
that “ they pound the seeds of the lotus which resembles a poppy, and make 
bread of it.” As we see from the monuments that enormous quantities of lotus 
plants grew on the banks of the Nile, the statement of Diodorus that a child, till 
it was grown up, cost its parents no more than 20 drachmae—about 15 shillings—- 
is quite credible. The papyrus has wholly disappeared from Egypt, but this is 
not the case with the lotus plant, which Dr. Rohrbach frequently found, and 
sent to Germany in 1856. At Damietta he saw peasants eat the roots of the 
white, and the seeds of the white and blue lotus. 


198 


UARDA. 


his little hand to stroke Pentaur’s cheek. An unknown 
tenderness had filled his little heart, and he felt as if 
he must throw his .arms round the poet’s neck and cry 
upon his breast. 

But Pentaur set him down on the ground, and he 
trotted down into the valley. There he paused. The 
sun was high in the heavens, and he must return to the 
witch’s cave and his board, but he would so much like 
to go a little farther—only as far as to the king’s tomb, 
which was quite near. 

Close by the door of this tomb was a thatch of 
palm-branches, and under this the sculptor Batau, a 
very aged man, was accustomed to rest. The old man 
was deaf, but he passed for the best artist of his time, 
and with justice; he had designed the beautiful pic¬ 
tures and hieroglyphic inscriptions in Seti’s splendid 
buildings at Abydos and Thebes, as well as in the tomb 
of that prince, and he was now working at the decora¬ 
tion of the walls in the grave of Rameses. 

Scherau had often crept close up to him, and thought¬ 
fully watched him at work, and then tried himself to 
make animal and human figures out of a bit of clay. 

One day the old man had observed him. 

The sculptor had silently taken his humble attempt 
out of his hand, and had returned it to him with a 
smile of encouragement. 

From that time a peculiar tie had sprung up be¬ 
tween the two. Scherau would venture to sit down by 
the sculptor, and try to imitate his finished images. 
Not a word was exchanged between them, but often 
the deaf old man would destroy the boy’s works, often 
on the contrary improve them with a touch of his 


UARDA. 


199 


own hand, and not seldom nod at him to encourage 
him. 

When he staid away the old man missed his pupil, 
and Scherau’s happiest hours were those which he passed 
at his side. 

He was not forbidden to take some clay home with 
him. There, when the old woman’s back was turned, 
he moulded a variety of images which he destroyed as 
soon as they were finished. 

While he lay on his rack his hands were left free, and 
he tried to reproduce the various forms which lived in 
his imagination, he forgot the present in his artistic at¬ 
tempts, and his bitter lot acquired a flavor of the sweet¬ 
est enjoyment. 

But to-day it was too late; he must give up his visit 
to the tomb of Rameses. 

Once more he looked back at the hut, and then hur¬ 
ried into the dark cave. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Pentaur also soon quitted the hut of the para- 
schites. 

Lost in meditation, he went along the hill-path which 
led to the temple* which Ameni had put under his direc¬ 
tion. 

He foresaw many disturbed and anxious hours in the 
immediate future. 

The sanctuary of which he was the superior, had been 

* This temple is well proportioned, and remains in good preservation. 
Copies of the interesting pictures discovered in it are to be found in the “ Fleet 
of an Egyptian queen” by Dumichen. Other details may be found in Lepsius 
Monuments of Egypt, and a plan of the place has recently been published by 
Mariette. 


200 


UARDA. 


dedicated to her own memory, and to the goddess 
Hathor, by Hatasu,* a great queen of the dethroned 
dynasty. 

The priests who served it were endowed with pe¬ 
culiar chartered privileges, which hitherto had been 
strictly respected. Their dignity was hereditary, going 
down from father to son, and they had the right of 
choosing their director from among themselves. 

Now their chief priest Rui was ill and dying, and 
Ameni, under whose jurisdiction they came, had, with¬ 
out consulting them, sent the young poet Pentaur to fill 
his place. 

They had received the intruder most unwillingly, 
and combined strongly against him when it became 
evident that he was disposed to establish a severe rule 
and to abolish many abuses which had become estab¬ 
lished customs. 

They had devolved the greeting of the rising sun 
on the temple-servants; Pentaur required that the younger 
ones at least should take part in chanting the morning 
hymn, and himself led the choir. They had trafficked 
with the offerings laid on the altar of the Goddess; the 
new master repressed this abuse, as well as the extor¬ 
tions of which they were guilty towards women in sorrow, 
who visited the temple of Hathor in greater number 
than any other sanctuary. 

The poet—brought up in the temple of Seti to self- 
control, order, exactitude, and decent customs, deeply 
penetrated with a sense of the dignity of his position, 
and accustomed to struggle with special zeal against 

* The daughter of Thotmes I., wife of her brother Thotmes II., and prede¬ 
cessor of her second brother Thotmes III. An energetic woman who executed 
great works, and caused herself to be represented with the helmet and beard- 
case of a man. 


UARDA. 


201 


indolence of body and spirit—was disgusted with the 
slothful life and fraudulent dealings of his subordinates ; 
and the deeper insight which yesterday’s experience 
had given him into the poverty and sorrow of human 
existence, made him resolve with increased warmth that 
he would awake them to a new life. 

The conviction that the lazy herd whom he com¬ 
manded was called upon to pour consolation into a 
thousand sorrowing hearts, to dry innumerable tears, 
and to clothe the dry sticks of despair with the fresh 
verdure of hope, urged him to strong measures. 

Yesterday he had seen how, with calm indifference, 
they had listened to the deserted wife, the betrayed 
maiden, to the woman, who implored the withheld bless¬ 
ing of children, to the anxious mother, the forlorn 
widow,—and sought only to take advantage of sorrow, 
to extort gifts for the Goddess, or better still for their 
own pockets or belly. 

Now he was nearing the scene of his new labors. 

There stood the reverend building, rising stately 
from the valley on four terraces handsomely and singularly 
divided, and resting on the western side against the 
high amphitheatre of yellow cliffs. 

On the closely-joined foundation stones gigantic 
hawks were carved in relief, each with the emblem of 
life, and symbolized Horus, the son of the Goddess, 
who brings all that fades to fresh bloom, and all that 
dies to resurrection. 

On each terrace stood a hall open to the east, and 
supported on two and twenty archaic* pillars. On their 

* Polygonal pillars, which were used first in tomb-building under the 
12th dynasty, and after the expulsion of the Hyksos under the kings of the 
17th and 18th, in public buildings; but under the subsequent races of kings 
they ceased to be employed. 


202 


UARDA. 


inner walls elegant pictures and inscriptions in the finest 
sculptured work recorded, for the benefit of posterity, 
the great things that Hatasu had done with the help of 
the Gods of Thebes. 

There were the ships which she had to send to 
Punt* to enrich Egypt with the treasures of the east; 
there the wonders brought to Thebes from Arabia might 
be seen; there were delineated the houses** of the in¬ 
habitants of the land of frankincense, and all the 
fishes of the Red Sea, in distinct and characteristic out¬ 
line.*** 

On the third and fourth terraces were the small 

t 

adjoining rooms of Hatasu and her brothers Thotmes 
II. and III., which were built against the rock, and en¬ 
tered by granite doorways. In them purifications were 
accomplished, the images of the Goddess worshipped, 
and the more distinguished worshippers admitted to 
confess. The sacred cows of the Goddess were kept 
in a side-building. 

As Pentaur approached the great gate of the ter¬ 
race-temple, he became the witness of a scene which 
filled him with resentment. 

A woman implored to be admitted into the fore¬ 
court, to pray at the altar of the Goddess for her hus¬ 
band, who was very ill, but the sleek gate-keeper drove 
her back with rough words. 

“ It is written up,” said he, pointing to the inscrip- 

* Arabia; apparently also the coast of east Africa south of Egypt as far as 
Somali. The latest of the lists published by Mariette, of the southern nations 
conquered by Thotmes III., mentions it. This list was found on the pylon of 
the temple of Karnak. 

** They stood on piles and were entered by ladders. 

*** The species are in many cases distinguishable—Dr. Ddnitz has named 
several. 


UARDA. 


203 


tion. over the gate, “ only the purified may set their 
foot across this threshold, and you cannot be purified 
but by the smoke of incense.” 

“ Then swing the censer for me,” said the woman, 
“ and take this silver ring—it is all I have.” 

“ A silver ring!” cried the porter, indignantly. 
“ Shall the goddess be impoverished for your sake! 
The grains of Anta,* that would be used in purifying 
you, would cost ten times as much.” 

“But I have no more,” replied the woman, “my 
husband, for whom I come to pray, is ill; he cannot 
work, and my children—” 

“You fatten them up and deprive the goddess of 
her due,” cried the gate-keeper. “ Three rings down, 
or I shut the gate.” 

“ Be merciful,” said the woman, weeping. “ What 
will become of us if Hathor does not help my hus¬ 
band ?” 

“ Will our goddess fetch the doctor ?” asked the 
porter. “ She has something to do besides curing sick 
starvelings. Besides, that is not her office. Go to 
Imhotep** or to Chunsu the counsellor,*** or to the 
great Techuti herself, who helps the sick. There is no 
quack medicine to be got here.” 

* An incense frequently mentioned. 

** The son of Ptah, named Asklepios by the Greeks. Memphis was the 
chief city of his worship ; he is usually represented with a cap on, and a book 
on his knee. There are fine statues of him at Berlin, the Louvre, and other 
museums. A bronze of great beauty is in the possession of Pastor Haken at 
Riga. 

*** The third of the Triad of Thebes; he is identical with Toth, and fre¬ 
quently addressed as of good counsel for the healing of the sick. His great 
Temple in Thebes (Karnak) is well preserved. In the time of the 20th dynasty 
A. C. 1273 to 1095, his statue (according to a passage interpreted by E. de 
Rong6) was sent into Asia to cure the sister of the wife of Raineses XII., an 
Asiatic princess, who was possessed by devils. 


204 


UARDA. 


“ I only want comfort in my trouble/’ said the 
woman. 

“ Comfort!” laughed the gate-keeper, measuring the 
comely young woman with his eye. “ That you may 
have cheaper.” 

The woman turned pale, and drew back from the 
hand the man stretched out towards her. 

At this moment Pentaur, full of wrath, stepped 
between them. 

He raised his hand in blessing over the woman, 
who bent low before him, and said, “ Whoever calls 
fervently on the Divinity is near to him. You are pure. 
Enter.” 

As soon as she had disappeared within the temple, 
the priest turned to the gate-keeper and exclaimed: 

“ Is this how you serve the goddess, is this how 
you take advantage of a heart-wrung woman ? Give 
me the keys of this gate. Your office is taken from 
you, and early to-morrow you go out in the fields, and 
keep the geese of Hathor.” 

The porter threw himself on his knees with loud 
outcries; but Pentaur turned his back upon him, entered 
the sanctuary, and mounted the steps which led to his 
dwelling on the third terrace. 

A few priests whom he passed turned their backs 
upon him, others looked down at their dinners, eating 
noisily, and making as if they did not see him. They 
had combined strongly, and were determined to expel 
the inconvenient intruder at any price. 

Having reached his room, which had been splen¬ 
didly decorated for his predecessor, Pentaur laid aside 
his new insignia, comparing sorrowfully the past and 
the present. 


UARDA. 


205 


To what an exchange Ameni had condemned him! 

Here, wherever he looked, he met with sulkiness and 
aversion; while, when he walked through the courts of 
the House of Seti, a hundred boys would hurry towards 
him, and cling affectionately to his robe. Honored there 
by great and small, his every word had had its value; and 
when each day he gave utterance to his thoughts, what 
he bestowed came back to him refined by earnest dis¬ 
course with his associates and superiors, and he gained 
new treasures for his inner life. 

“ What is rare,” thought he, “ is full of charm; and 
yet how hard it is to do without what is habitual!” 

The occurrences of the last few days passed before 
his mental sight. Bent-Anat’s image appeared before him, 
and took a more and more distinct and captivating form. 
His heart began to beat wildly, the blood rushed faster 
through his veins; he hid his face in his hands, and re¬ 
called every glance, every word from her lips. 

“ I follow thee willingly,” she had said to him before 
the hut of the paraschites. Now he asked himself 
whether he were worthy of such a follower. 

He had indeed broken through the old bonds, but 
not to disgrace the house that was dear to him, only to 
let new light into its dim chambers. 

“To do what we have earnestly felt to be right,” said 
he to himself, “ may seem worthy of punishment to men, 
but cannot before God.” 

He sighed and walked out into the terrace in a mood 
of lofty excitement, and fully resolved to do here noth¬ 
ing but what was right, to lay the foundation of all that 
was good. 

“We men,” thought he, “prepare sorrow when we 
come into the world, and lamentation when we leave it; 


206 


UARDA. 


and so it is our duty in the intermediate time to fight 
with suffering, and to sow the seeds of joy. There are 
many tears here to be wiped away. To work then!” 

The poet found none of his subordinates on the 
upper terrace. They had all met in the forecourt of 
the temple, and were listening to the gate-keeper’s tale, 
and seemed to sympathize with his angry complaint— 
against whom Pentaur well knew. 

With a firm step he went towards them and said: 

“ I have expelled this man from among us, for he is 
a disgrace to us. To-morrow he quits the temple.” 

“ I will go at once,” replied the gate-keeper defiant¬ 
ly, “ and in behalf of the holy fathers (here he cast a sig¬ 
nificant glance at the priests), ask the high-priest Ameni 
if the unclean are henceforth to be permitted to enter 
this sanctuary.” 

He was already approaching the gate, but Pentaur 
stepped before him, saying resolutely: 

“You will remain here and keep the geese to-morrow, 
day after to-morrow, and until I choose to pardon you.” 

The gate-keeper looked enquiringly at the priests. 

Not one moved. 

“ Go back into your house,” said Pentaur, going 
closer to him. 

The porter obeyed. 

Pentaur locked the door of the little room, gave the 
key to one of the temple-servants, and said: “ Perform 

his duty, watch the man, and if he escapes you will go 
after the geese to-morrow too. See, my friends, how 
many worshippers kneel there before our altars—go and 
fulfil your office. I will wait in the confessional to re¬ 
ceive complaints, and to administer comfort.” 

The priests separated and went to the votaries. 


UARDA. 


207 


Pentaur once more mounted the steps, and sat down in 
the narrow confessional which was closed by a curtain ; 
on its wall the picture of Hatasu was to be seen, drawing 
the milk of eternal life from the udders of the cow Hathor.* 

H e had hardly taken his place when a temple-servant* * 
announced the arrival of a veiled lady. The bearers 
of her litter were thickly veiled, and she had requested 
to be conducted to the confession chamber. The servant 
handed Pentaur a token by which the high-priest of the 
great temple of Amon, on the other bank of the Nile, 
granted her the privilege of entering the inner rooms of 
the temple with the Rechiu,*** and to communicate 
with all priests, even with the highest of the initiated. 

The poet withdrew behind a curtain, and awaited the 
stranger with a disquiet that seemed to him ali the more 
singular that he had frequently found himself in a similar 
position. Even the noblest dignitaries had often been 
transferred to him by Ameni when they had come to the 
temple to have their visions interpreted. 

A tall female figure entered the still, sultry stone 
room, sank on her knees, and put up a long and absorbed 
prayer before the figure of Hathor. Pentaur also, seen 
by no one, lifted his hands, and fervently addressed him¬ 
self to the omnipresent spirit with a prayer for strength 
and purity. 

Just as his arms fell the lady raised her head. It 
was as though the prayers of the two souls had united 
to mount upwards together. 

The veiled lady rose and dropped her veil. 

* A remarkably life-like figure in relief, in perfect preservation. 

** The Neokori were the lowest order of the priesthood ; even the temple- 
servants belonged to it. 

*** Egyptians, who were admitted to the innermost chambers and the highest 
grades of learning. 


UARDA. 


208 


It was Bent-Anat. 

In the agitation of her soul she had sought the 
goddess Hathor, who guides the beating heart of 
woman and spins the threads which bind man and 
wife. 

“ High mistress of heaven ! many-named and beau¬ 
tiful !” she began to pray aloud, “ golden Hathor! who 
knowest grief and ecstasy—the present and the future— 
draw near to thy child, and guide the spirit of thy 
servant, that he may advise me well. I am the daughter 
of a father who is great and noble and truthful as one 
of the Gods. He advises me—he will never compel 
me—to yield to a man whom I can never love. Nay, 
another has met me, humble in birth but noble in 
spirit and in gifts—” 

Thus far, Pentaur, incapable of speech, had over¬ 
heard the princess. 

Ought he to remain concealed and hear all her 
secret, or should he step forth and show himself to 
her? His pride called loudly to him: “ Now she will 
speak your name; you are the chosen one of the 
fairest and noblest.” But another voice to which 
he had accustomed himself to listen in severe self- 
discipline made itself heard, and said—“ Let her say 
nothing in ignorance, that she need be ashamed of if 
she knew.” 

He blushed for her;—he opened the curtain and 
went forward into the presence of Bent-Anat. 

The Princess drew back startled. 

“ Art thou Pentaur,” she asked, “ or one of the 
Immortals ?” 

“ I am Pentaur,” he answered firmly, “ a man with 
all the weakness of his race, but with a desire for 


UARDA 


209 


what is good. Linger here and pour out thy soul to 
our Goddess; my whole life shall be a prayer for 
thee.” 

The poet looked full at her; then he turned quickly, 
as if to avoid a danger, towards the door of the con¬ 
fessional. 

Bent-Anat called his name, and he stayed his 
steps. 

“ The daughter of Raineses,” she said, “ need offer 
no justification of her appearance here, but the maiden 
Bent-Anat,” and she colored as she spoke, “ expected 
to find, not thee, but the old priest Rui, and she de¬ 
sired his advice. Now leave me to pray.” 

Bent-Anat sank on her knees, and Pentaur went 
out into the open air. 

When the princess too had left the confessional, 
loud voices were heard on the south side of the terrace 
on which they stood. 

She hastened towards the parapet. 

“ Hail to Pentaur!” was shouted up from below. 

The poet rushed forward, and placed himself near 
the princess. Both looked down into the valley, and 
could be seen by all. 

“ Hail, hail! Pentaur,” was called doubly loud, 
“ Hail to our teacher! come back to the House of Seti. 
Down with the persecutors of Pentaur—down with 
our oppressors 1” 

At the head of the youths, who, so soon as they 
had found out whither the poet had been exiled, had 
escaped to tell him that they were faithful to him, 
stood the prince Rameri, who nodded triumphantly to 
his sister, and Anana stepped forward to inform the 


2 10 


UARDA. 


honored teacher in a solemn and well-studied speech, 
that, in the event of Ameni refusing to recall him, they 
had decided requesting their fathers to place them at 
another school. 

The young sage spoke well, and Bent-Anat fol¬ 
lowed his words, not without approbation; but Pen- 
taur’s face grew darker, and before his favorite dis¬ 
ciple had ended his speech he interrupted him sternly. 

His voice was at first reproachful, and then com¬ 
plaining, and, loud as he spoke, only sorrow rang in 
his tones, and not anger. 

“ In truth,” he concluded, “ every word that I have 
spoken to you I could but find it in me to regret, if 
it has contributed to encourage you to this mad act. 
You were born in palaces; learn to obey, that later you 
may know how to command. Back to your school! 
You hesitate? Then I will come out against you with 
the watchman, and drive you back, for you do me and 
yourselves small honor by such a proof of affection. 
Go back to the school you belong to.” 

The school-boys dared make no answer, but sur¬ 
prised and disenchanted turned to go home. 

Bent-Anat cast down her eyes as she met those of 
her brother, who shrugged his shoulders, and then she 
looked half shyly, half respectfully, at the poet; but 
soon again her eyes turned to the plain below, for thick 
dust-clouds whirled across it, the sound of hoofs and 
the rattle of wheels became audible, and at the same 
moment the chariot of Septah, the chief haruspex, and 
a vehicle with the heavily-armed guard of the House 
of Seti, stopped near the terrace. 

The angry old man sprang quickly to the ground. 


UARDA. 


2 I I 


called the host of escaped pupils to him in a stem 
voice, ordered the guard to drive them back to the 
school, and hurried up to the temple gates like a 
vigorous youth. The priests received him with the 
deepest reverence, and at once laid their complaints 
before him. 

He heard them willingly, but did not let them dis¬ 
cuss the matter; then, though with some difficulty, he 
quickly mounted the steps, down which Bent-Anat came 
towards him. 

The princess felt that she would divert all the 
blame and misunderstanding to herself, if Septah re¬ 
cognized her; her hand involuntarily reached for her 
veil, but she drew it back quickly, looked with quiet 
dignity into the old man’s eyes, which flashed with 
anger, and proudly passed by him. The haruspex 
bowed, but without giving her his blessing, and 
when he met Pentaur on the second terrace, ordered 
that the temple should be cleared of worshippers. 

This was done in a few minutes, and the priests 
were witnesses of the most painful scene which had 
occurred for years in their quiet sanctuary. 

The head of the haruspices of the House of Seti 
was the most determined adversary of the poet who 
had so early been initiated into the mysteries, and 
whose keen intellect often shook those very ramparts 
which the zealous old man had, from conviction, 
labored to strengthen from his youth up. The vexa¬ 
tious occurrences, of which he had been a witness at 
the House of Seti, and here also but a few minutes 
since, he regarded as the consequence of the unbridled 
license of an ill-regulated imagination, and in stern lan- 


212 


UARDA. 


guage he called Pentaur to account for the “ revolt ” of 
the school-boys. 

“ And besides our boys,” he exclaimed, “ you have 
led the daughter of Rameses astray. She was not yet 
purged of her uncleanness, and yet you tempt her to 
an assignation, not even in the stranger’s quarters— 
but in the holy house of this pure Divinity.” 

Undeserved praise is dangerous to the weak; unjust 
blame may turn even the strong from the right way. 

Pentaur indignantly repelled the accusations of the 
old man, called them unworthy of his age, his position, 
and his name, and for fear that his anger might carry 
him too far, turned his back upon him; but the harus- 
pex ordered him to remain, and in his presence ques¬ 
tioned the priests, who unanimously accused the poet 
of having admitted to the temple another unpurified 
woman besides Bent-Anat, and of having expelled the 
gate-keeper and thrown him into prison for opposing 
the crime. 

The haruspex ordered that the “ ill-used man ” 
should be set at liberty. 

Pentaur resisted this command, asserted his right 
to govern in this temple, and with a trembling voice 
requested- Septah to quit the place. 

The haruspex showed him Ameni’s ring, by which, 
during his residence in Thebes, he made him his pleni¬ 
potentiary, degraded Pentaur from his dignity, but 
ordered him not to quit the sanctuary till further notice, 
and then finally departed from the temple of Hatasu. 

Pentaur had yielded in silence to the signet of his 
chief, and returned to the confessional in which he 
had met Bent-Anat. He felt his soul shaken to its 
very foundations, his thoughts were confused, his feel* 


UARDA. 


213 


ings struggling with each other; he shivered, and when 
he heard the laughter of the priests and the gate¬ 
keeper, who were triumphing in their easy victory, he 
started and shuddered like a man who in passing a 
mirror should see a brand of disgrace on his brow. 

But by degrees he recovered himself, his spirit 
grew clearer, and when he left the little room to look 
towards the east—where, on the farther shore, rose the 
palace where Bent-Anat must be—a deep contempt 
for his enemies filled his soul, and a proud feeling of 
renewed manly energy. He did not conceal from him¬ 
self that he had enemies; that a time of struggle was 
beginning for him; but he looked forward to it like a 
young hero to the morning of his first battle. 


CHAPTER XV. 

The afternoon shadows were already growing long, 
when a splendid chariot drew up to the gates of the 
terrace-temple. Paaker, the chief pioneer, stood up in 
it, driving his handsome and fiery Syrian horses. Be¬ 
hind him stood an Ethiopian slave, and his big dog 
followed the swift team with his tongue out. 

As he approached the temple he heard himself 
called, and checked the pace of his horses. A tiny 
man hurried up to him, and, as soon as he had re¬ 
cognized in him the dwarf Nemu, he cried angrily: 

“ Is it for you, you rascal, that I stop my drive ? 
What do you want ?” 

“To crave,” said the little man, bowing humbly, 
“ that, when thy business in the city of the dead is 
finished, thou wilt carry me back to Thebes.’* 


214 


UARDA. 


“You are Mena’s dwarf?” asked the pioneer. 

“By no means,” replied Nemu. “ I belong to his 
neglected wife, the lady Nefert. I can only cover the 
road very slowly with my little legs, while the hoofs of 
your horses devour the way—as a crocodile does his 
prey.” 

“ Get up!” said Paaker. “ Did you come here on 
foot ?” 

“ No, my lord,” replied Nemu, “on an ass; but a 
demon entered into the beast, and has struck it with 
sickness. I had to leave it on the road. The beasts 
of Anubis will have a better supper than we to-night.” 

“ Things are not done handsomely then at your 
mistress’s house ?” asked Paaker. 

“ We still have bread,” replied Nemu, “ and the Nile 
is full of water. Much meat is not necessary for wo¬ 
men and dwarfs, but our last cattle take a form which 
is too hard for human teeth.” 

The pioneer did not understand the joke, and 
looked enquiringly at the dwarf. 

“ The form of money,” said the little man, “ and 
that cannot be chewed; soon that will be gone too, 
and then -the point will be to find a recipe for making 
nutritious cakes out of earth, water, and palm-leaves. 
It makes very little difference to me, a dwarf does not 
need much—but the poor tender lady!” 

Paaker touched his horses with such a violent 
stroke of his whip that they reared high, and it took 
all his strength to control their spirit. 

“ The horses’ jaws will be broken,” muttered the 
slave behind. “ What a shame with such fine beasts!” 

“ Have you to pay for them ?” growled Paaker. 
Then he turned again to the dwarf, and asked— 


UARDA. 


2I 5 


“ Why does Mena let the ladies want ?” 

“ He no longer cares for his wife,” replied the dwarf, 
casting his eyes down sadly. “At the last division of 
the spoil he passed by the gold and silver, and took 
a foreign woman into his tent. Evil demons have 
blinded him, for where is there a woman fairer than 
Nefert ?” 

“ You love your mistress.” 

“As my very eyes!” 

During this conversation they had arrived at the 
terrace-temple. Paaker threw the reins to the slave, 
ordered him to wait with Nemu, and turned to the 
gate-keeper to explain to him, with the help of a hand¬ 
ful of gold, his desire of being conducted to Pentaur, 
the chief of the temple. 

The gate-keeper, swinging a censer before him 
with a hasty action, admitted him into the sanctuary. 

“You will find him on the third terrace,” he said, 
“but he is no longer our superior.” 

“ They said so in the temple of Seti, whence I have 
just come,” replied Paaker. 

The porter shrugged his shoulders with a sneer, and 
said : “ The palm-tree that is quickly set up falls down 
more quickly still.” Then he desired a servant to con¬ 
duct the stranger to Pentaur. 

The poet recognized the Mohar at once, asked his 
will, and learned that he was come to have a wonderful 
vision interpreted by him. 

Paaker explained before relating his dream, that 
he did not ask this service for nothing; and when the 
priest’s countenance darkened he added: 

“ I will send a fine beast for sacrifice to the Goddess 
if the interpretation is favorable.” 


UARD4. 


2 I 6 


“ And in the opposite case ?” asked Pentaur, who, in 
the House of Seti, never would have anything whatever 
to do with the payments of the worshippers or the offer¬ 
ings of the devout. 

“ I will offer a sheep,” replied Paaker, who did not 
perceive the subtle irony that lurked in Pentaur’s words, 
and who was accustomed to pay for the gifts of the 
Divinity in proportion to their value to himself. 

Pentaur thought of the verdict which Gagabu, only 
two evenings since, had passed on the Mohar, and it 
occurred to him that he would test how far the man’s 
superstition would lead him. So he asked, while he 
suppressed a smile: 

“ And if I can foretell nothing bad, but also nothing 
actually good ?”— 

“ An antelope, and four geese,” answered Paaker 
promptly. 

“ But if I were altogether disinclined to put myself 
at your service ?” asked Pentaur. “ If I thought it un¬ 
worthy of a priest to let the Gods be paid in proportion 
to their favors towards a particular person, like cor¬ 
rupt officials; if I now showed you—you—and I have 
known you from a school-boy, that there are things that 
cannot be bought with inherited wealth ?” 

The pioneer drew back astonished and angry, but 
Pentaur continued calmly— 

“ I stand here as the minister of the Divinity; and 
nevertheless, I see by your countenance, that you were 
on the point of lowering yourself by showing to me 
your violent and extortionate spirit. 

“ The Immortals send us dreams, not to give us a 
foretaste of joy or caution us against danger, but to re¬ 
mind us so to prepare our souls that we may submit 


UARDA. 


217 


quietly to suffer evil, and with heartfelt gratitude accept 
the good; and so gain from each profit for the inner 
life. I will not interpret your dream! Come without 
gifts, but with a humble heart, and with longing for in¬ 
ward purification, and I will pray to the Gods that they 
may enlighten me, and give you such interpretation of 
even evil dreams that they may be fruitful in bless¬ 
ing. 

Leave me, and quit the temple!” 

Paaker ground his teeth with rage; but he con¬ 
trolled himself, and only said as he slowly withdrew; 

“If your office had not already been taken from 
you, the insolence with which you have dismissed me 
might have cost you your place. We shall meet again, 
and then you shall learn that inherited wealth in the 
right hand is worth more than you will like.” 

“Another enemy!” thought the poet, when he found 
himself alone and stood erect in the glad consciousness 
of having done right. 

During Paaker’s interview with the poet, the dwarf 
Nemu had chatted to the porter, and had learned 
from him all that had previously occurred. 

Paaker mounted his chariot pale with rage, and 
whipped on his horses before the dwarf had clambered 
up the step; but the slave seized the little man, and 
set him carefully on his feet behind his master. 

“The villian, the scoundrel! he shall repent it— 
Pentaur is he called! the hound!” muttered the pioneer 
to himself. 

The dwarf lost none of his words, and when he 
caught the name of Pentaur he called to the pioneer, 
and said— 


15 


2 l8 


UARDA. 


“They have appointed a scoundrel to be the supe¬ 
rior of this temple; his name is Pentaur. He was ex¬ 
pelled from the temple of Seti for his immorality, and 
now he has stirred up the younger scholars to rebellion, 
and invited unclean women into the temple. My lips 
hardly dare repeat it, but the gate-keeper swore it was 
true—that the chief haruspex from the House of Seti 
found him in conference with Bent-Anat, the king’s 
daughter, and at once deprived him of his office.” 

“With Bent-Anat?” replied the pioneer, and muttered, 
before the dwarf could find time to answer, “Indeed, 
with Bent-Anat!” and he recalled the day before yester¬ 
day, when the princess had remained so long with the 
priest in the hovel of the paraschites, while he had 
talked to Nefert and visited the old witch. 

“I should not care to be in the priest’s skin,” ob¬ 
served Nemu, “for though Rameses is far away, the 
Regent Ani is near enough. He is a gentleman who 
seldom pounces, but even the dove won’t allow itself to 
be attacked in its own nest.” 

Paaker looked enquiringly at Nemu. 

“I know,” said the dwarf, “Ani has asked Rameses* 
consent to marry his daughter.” 

“He has already asked it,” continued the dwarf as 
Paaker smiled incredulously, “ and the king is not dis¬ 
inclined to give it. He likes making marriages—as 
thou must know pretty well.” 

“ I ?” said Paaker, surprised. 

“ He forced Katuti to give her daughter as wife to 
the charioteer. That I know from herself. She can 
prove it to thee.” 

Paaker shook his head in denial, but the dwarf con¬ 
tinued eagerly, “ Yes, yes! Katuti would have had thee 


UARDA. 


219 


for her son-in-law, and it was the king, not she, who 
broke off the betrothal. Thou must at the same time 
have been inscribed in the black books of the ‘high 
gate/ for Rameses used many hard names for thee. 
One of us is like a mouse behind the curtain, which 
knows a good deal.” 

Paaker suddenly brought his horses to a stand-still, 
threw the reins to the slave, sprang from the chariot, 
called the dwarf to his side, and said: 

“We will walk from here to the river, and you 
shall tell me all you know; but if an untrue word 
passes your lips I will have you eaten by my dogs.” 

“I know thou canst keep thy word,” gasped the 
little man. “ But go a little slower if thou wilt, for I 
am quite out of breath. Let Katuti herself tell thee 
how it all came about. Rameses compelled her to give 
her daughter to the charioteer. I do not know what he 
said of thee, but it was not complimentary. My poor 
mistress! she let herself be caught by the dandy, the 
ladies’ man—and now she may weep and wail. When 
I pass the great gates of thy house with Katuti, she 
often sighs and complains bitterly. And with good 
reason, for it soon will be all over with our noble es¬ 
tate, and we must seek an asylum far away among the 
Amu* in the low lands; for the nobles will soon avoid 
us as outcasts. Thou mayst be glad that thou hast 
not linked thy fate to ours; but I have a faithful heart, 
and will share my mistress’s trouble.” 

“You speak riddles,” said Paaker, “what have they 
to fear?” 

* A Semitic tribe, who at the time of our story peopled the eastern delta. 
See “TEgypten und die Bucher Moses,” Ebers, and the second edition of 
“ Histoire de l’Egypte” by Brugsch. The name Bi-amites comes from the old 
name Amu. 


220 


UARDA. 


The dwarf now related how Nefert’s brother had 
gambled away the mummy of his father, how enor¬ 
mous was the sum he had lost, and that degradation 
must overtake Katuti, and her daughter with her. 

“ Who can save them,” he whimpered. “ Her shame¬ 
less husband squanders his inheritance and his prize- 
money. Katuti is poor, and the little words “Give 
me!’ scare away friends as the cry of a hawk scares 
the chickens. My poor mistress!” 

“ It is a large sum,” muttered Paaker to himself. 

“ It is enormous!” sighed the dwarf, “ and where is 
it to be found in these hard times? It would have 
been different with us, if—ah if—. And it would be a 
form of madness which I do not believe in, that Nefert 
should still care for her braggart husband. She thinks 
as much of thee as of him.” 

Paaker looked at the dwarf half incredulous and half 
threatening. 

“Ay—of thee,” repeated Nemu. “Since our ex¬ 
cursion to the Necropolis—the day before yesterday it 
was—she speaks only of thee, praising thy ability, and 
thy strong manly spirit. It is as if some charm obliged 
her to think of thee.” 

The pioneer began to walk so fast that his small 
companion once more had to ask him to moderate his 
steps. 

They gained the shore in silence, where Paaker’s 
boat was waiting, which also conveyed his chariot. 
He lay down in the little cabin, called the dwarf to 
him, and said: 

“I am Katuti’s nearest relative; we are now recon¬ 
ciled ; why does she not turn to me in her difficulty ?” 

“ Because she is proud, and thy blood flows in her 


UARDA. 


221 


veins. Sooner would she die with her child—she said so 
—than ask thee, against whom she sinned, for an alms.” 

“ She did think of me* then ?” 

“ At once; nor did she doubt thy generosity. She 
esteems thee highly—I repeat it; and if an arrow from 
a Cheta’s bow or a visitation of the Gods attained 
Mena, she would joyfully place her child in thine arms, 
and Nefert believe me has not forgotten her playfellow. 
The day before yesterday, when she came home from 
the Necropolis, and before the letter had come from 
the camp, she was full of thee*—nay called to thee in 
her dreams; I know it from Kandake, her black maid.” 

The pioneer looked down and said: 

“ How extraordinary ! and the same night I had a 
vision in which your mistress appeared to me ; the inso¬ 
lent priest in the temple of Hathor should have inter¬ 
preted it to me.” 

“ And he refused ? the fool! but other folks under¬ 
stand dreams, and I am not the worst of them—Ask 
thy servant. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred my 
interpretations come true. How was the vision ?” 

“ I stood by the Nile,” said Paaker, casting down 
his eyes and drawing lines with his whip through the 
wool of the cabin rug. “ The water was still, and I 
saw Nefert standing on the farther bank, and beckon¬ 
ing to me. I called to her, and she stepped on the 
water, which bore her up as if it were this carpet. She 
went over the water dry-foot as if it were the stony 
wilderness. A wonderful sight! She came nearer to me, 
and nearer, and already I had tried to take her hand, 
when she ducked under like a swan. I went into the 

* " To be full (meh) of any one ” is used in the Egyptian language for “ to 
be in love with any one.” 


222 


UARDA. 


water to seize her, and when she came up agnin I 
clasped her in my arms; but then the strangest thing 
happened—she flowed away, she dissolved like the 
snow on the Syrian hills, when you take it in your 
hand, and yet it was not the same, for her hair turned 
to water-lilies, and her eyes to blue fishes that swam 
away merrily, and her lips to twigs of coral that sank 
at once, and from her body grew a crocodile, with a 
head like Mena, that laughed and gnashed its teeth at 
me. Then I was seized with blind fury; I threw my¬ 
self upon him with a drawn sword, he fastened his 
teeth in my flesh, I pierced his throat with my weapon; 
the Nile was dark with our streaming blood, and so 
we fought and fought—it lasted an eternity—till I 
awoke.” 

Paaker drew a deep breath as he ceased speaking; 
as if his wild dream tormented him again. 

The dwarf had listened with eager attention, but 
several minutes passed before he spoke. 

“ A strange dream,” he said, “ but the interpretation 
as to the future is not hard to find. Nefert is striving 
to reach thee, she longs to be thine, but if thou dost 
fancy that she is already in thy grasp she will elude 
thee; thy hopes will melt like ice, slip away like sand, 
if thou dost not know how to put the crocodile out of 
the way.” 

At this moment the boat struck the landing-place. 
The pioneer started up, and cried, “ We have reached 
the end!” 

“ We have reached the end,” echoed the little man 
with meaning. “ There is only a narrow bridge to step 
over.” 

When tney Doth stood on the shore, the dwarf said, 


UARDA. 


223 


“ I have to thank thee for thy hospitality, and 
when I can serve thee command me.” 

“ Come here,” cried the pioneer, and drew Nemu 
away with him under the shade of a sycamore veiled 
in the half light of the departing sun. 

“ What do you mean by a bridge which we must 
step over ? I do not understand the flowers of speech, 
and desire plain language.” 

The dwarf reflected for a moment, and then asked— 

“ Shall I say nakedly and openly what I mean, and 
will you not be angry ? n 

“ Speak 1” 

“ Mena is the crocodile. Put him out of the world, 
and you will have passed the bridge; then Nefert will 
be thine—if thou wilt listen to me.” 

“ What shall I do ? ” 

“ Put the charioteer out of the world.” 

Paaker’s gesture seemed to convey that that was a 
thing that had long been decided on, and he turned 
his face, for a good omen, so that the rising moon 
should be on his right hand. 

The dwarf went on. 

“ Secure Nefert, so that she may not vanish like her 
image in the dream, before you reach the goal; that is 
to say, ransom the honor of your future mother and 
wife, for how could you take an outcast into your 
house ?” 

Paaker looked thoughtfully at the ground. 

“ May I inform my mistress that thou wilt save her?” 
asked Nemu. “I may?—Then all will be well, for he 
who will devote a fortune to love will not hesitate to 
devote a reed lance with a brass point to it to his love 
and his hatred together.” 


224 


TJARDA. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


The sun had set, and darkness covered the City of 
the Dead; but the moon shone above the valley of the 
kings’ tombs, and the projecting masses of the rocky 
walls of the chasm threw sharply-defined shadows. 
A weird silence lay upon the desert, where yet far more 
life was stirring than in the noonday hour, for now bats 
darted like black silken threads through the night air, 
owls hovered aloft on wide-spread wings, small troops 
of jackals slipped by, one following the other up the 
mountain slopes. From time to time their hideous 
yell, or the whining laugh of the hyena, broke the 
stillness of the night. 

Nor was human life yet at rest in the valley of 
tombs. A faint light glimmered in the cave of the sor¬ 
ceress Hekt, and in front of the paraschites' hut a fire 
was burning, which the grandmother of the sick Uarda 
now and then fed with pieces of dry manure. Two 
men were seated in front of the hut, and gazed in 
silence on the thin flame, whose impure light was al¬ 
most quenched by the clearer glow of the moon ; whilst 
the third, Uarda’s father, disembowelled a large ram, 
whose head he had already cut off. 

“ How the jackals howl!” said the old paraschites, 
drawing as he spoke the torn brown cotton cloth, which 
he had put on as a protection against the night air 
and the dew, closer round his bare shoulders. 

“ They scent the fresh meat”answered the physician, 


UARDA. 


225 


Nebsecht. “ Throw them the entrails, when you have 
done; the legs and back you can roast. Be careful 
how you cut out the heart—the heart, soldier. There 
it is! What a great beast.” 

Nebsecht took the ram’s heart in his hand, and 
gazed at it with the deepest attention, whilst the old 
paraschites watched him anxiously. At length : 

“ I promised,” he said, “ to do for you what you 
wish, if you restore the little one to health; but you 
ask for what is impossible.” 

“ Impossible ?” said the physician, “ why, impossible ? 
You open the corpses, you go in and out of the house 
of theembalmer. Get possession of one of the canopi,* 
lay this heart in it, and take out in its stead the heart 
of a human being. No one—no one will notice it. 
Nor need you do it to-morrow, or the day after to¬ 
morrow even. Your son can buy a ram to kill every 
day with my money till the right moment comes. Your 
granddaughter will soon grow strong on a good meat- 
diet. Take courage!” 

“ I am not afraid of the danger,” said the old man, 
“ but how can I venture to steal from a dead man his 
life in the other world? And then—in shame and 
misery have I lived, and for many a year—no man has 
numbered them for me—have I obeyed the command¬ 
ments, that I may be found righteous in that world to 


* Vases of clay, limestone, or alabaster, which were used for the preserva¬ 
tion of the intestines of the embalmed Egyptians, and represented the four 
genii of death, Amset, Hapi, Tuamutef, and Khebsennuf. Instead of the 
cover, the head of the genius to which it was dedicated, was placed on each 
kanopus. Amset (under the protection of Isis) has a human head, Hapi (pro¬ 
tected by Nephthys) an ape’s head, Tuamutef (protected by Neith) a jackal’s 
head, and Khebsennuf (protected by Selk) a sparrow-hawk’s head. In one of 
the Christian Coptic Manuscripts, the four archangels are invoked in the place 
of these genii. 


226 


UARDA. 


come, and in the fields of Aalu, and in the Sun-bark 
find compensation for all that I have suffered here. 
You are good and friendly. Why, for the sake of a 
whim, should you sacrifice the future bliss of a man, 
who in all his long life has never known happiness, 
and who has never done you any harm ?” 

“ What I want with the heart,” replied the physician, 
“ you cannot understand, but in procuring it for me, 
you will be furthering a great and useful purpose. I 
have no whims, for I am no idler. And as to what 
concerns your salvation, have no anxiety. I am a 
priest, and take your deed and its consequences upon 
myself; upon myself, do you understand? I tell you, 
as a priest, that what I demand of you is right, and if 
the judge of the dead shall enquire, ‘ Why didst thou 
take the heart of a human being out of the Kanopus ?’ 
then reply—reply to him thus, ‘ Because Nebsecht, the 
priest, commanded me, and promised himself to answer 
for the deed.’ ” 

The old man gazed thoughtfully on the ground, and 
the physician continued still more urgently: 

“If you fulfil my wish, then—then I swear to you 
that, when you die, I will take care that your mummy 
is provided with all the amulets, and I myself will write 
you a book of the Entrance into Day,* and have it 
wound within your mummy-cloth, as is done with the 
great.** That will give you power over all demons, 
and you will be admitted to the hall of the twofold 
justice, which punishes and rewards, and your award 
will be bliss.” 

* The first section of the so-called Rook of the Dead is thus entitled. The 
commencement: Ha em re’ein per em hru, led the Greeks to speak of a book of 
the Egyptians, called “The Holy Ambres.’’ 

The Books of the Dead are often found amongst the cloths, (by the leg or 
under the arm), or else in the coffin under, or near, the mummy. 


TJARDA. 


227 


“ But the theft of a heart will make the weight of 
my sins heavy, when my own heart is weighed,” sighed 
the old man. 

Nebsecht considered for a moment, and then said: 
“ I will give you a written paper, in which I will certify 
that it was I who commanded the theft. You will sew 
it up in a little bag, carry it on your breast, and have 
it laid with you in the grave. Then when Techuti, 
the agent of the soul, receives your justification before 
Osiris and the judges of the dead,* give him the 
writing. He will read it aloud, and you will be ac¬ 
counted just.” 

“ I am not learned in writing,” muttered the para- 
schites with a slight mistrust that made itself felt in his 
voice. 

“ But I swear to you by the nine great Gods, that 
I will write nothing on the paper but what I have 
promised you. I will confess that I, the priest Nebsecht, 
commanded you to take the heart, and that your guilt 
is mine.” 

“ Let me have the writing then,” murmured the old 
man. 

The physician wiped the perspiration from his 
forehead, and gave the paraschites his hand. “To-mor¬ 
row you shall have it,” he said, “ and I will not leave 
your granddaughter till she is well again.” 


* The vignettes of Chapter 125 of the Book of the Dead represent the 
Last Judgment of the Egyptians. Under a canopy Osiris sits enthroned as 
Chief Judge, 42 assessors assist him. In the hall stand the scales; the dog¬ 
headed ape, the animal sacred to Toth, guides the balance. In one scale lies 
the heart of the dead man, in the other the image of the goddess of Truth, 
who introduces the soul into the hall of justice Toth writes the record. The 
soul affirms that it has not committed 42 deadly sins, and if it obtains credit, it 
is named “maa cheru,” i. e., “the truth-speaker,” and is therewith declared 
blessed. 11 now receives its heart back, and grows into a new and divine life. 


228 


UARDA. 


The soldier engaged in cutting up the ram, had 
heard nothing of this conversation. Now he ran a 
wooden spit through the legs, and held them over the 
fire to roast them. The jackals howled louder as the 
smell of the melting fat filled the air, and the old man, 
as he looked on, forgot the terrible task he had under¬ 
taken. For a year past, no meat had been tasted in 
his house. 

The physician Nebsecht, himself eating nothing but 
a piece of bread, looked on at the feasters. They tore 
the meat from the bones, and the soldier, especially, 
devoured the costly and unwonted meal like some 
ravenous animal. He could be heard chewing like a 
horse in the manger, and a feeling of disgust filled 
the physician’s soul. 

“ Sensual beings,” he murmured to himself, “ animals 
with consciousness! And yet human beings. Strange! 
They languish bound in the fetters of the world of 
sense, and yet how much more ardently they desire 
that which transcends sense than we—how much more 
real it is to them than to us!” 

“ Will you have some meat ?” cried the soldier, 
who had remarked that Nebsecht’s lips moved, and 
tearing a piece of meat from the bone of the joint he 
was devouring, he held it out to the physician. 
Nebsecht shrank back; the greedy look, the glistening 
teeth, the dark, rough features of the man terrified 
him. And he thought of the white and fragile form 
of the sick girl lying within on the mat, and a ques¬ 
tion escaped his lips. 

“ Is the maiden, is Uarda, your own child ?” he 
said. 


UARDA. 


229 


The soldier struck himself on the breast. ‘‘So 
sure as the king Rameses is the son of Seti,” he answered. 

The men had finished their meal, and the flat 
cakes of bread which the wife of the paraschites gave 
them, and on which they had wiped their hands from the 
fat, were consumed, when the soldier, in whose slow 
brain the physician’s question still lingered, said, sigh¬ 
ing deeply: 

“ Her mother was a stranger; she laid the white 
dove in the raven’s nest.” 

“Of what country was your wife a native?” asked 
the physician. 

“That I do not know,” replied the soldier. 

“ Did you never enquire about the family of your 
own wife?” 

“ Certainly I did : but how could she have answered 
me? But it is a long and strange story.” 

“Relate it to me,” said Nebsecht, “the night is 
long, and I like listening better than talking. But 
first I will see after our patient.” 

When the physician had satisfied himself that 
Uarda was sleeping quietly and breathing regularly, 
he seated himself again by the paraschites and his son, 
and the soldier began: 

“ It all happened long ago. King Seti still lived, 
but Rameses already reigned in his stead, when I 
came home from the north. They had sent me to 
the workmen, who were building the fortifications in 
Zoan, the town of Rameses.* I was set over six 
men, Amus,** of the Hebrew race, over whom 

* The Rameses of the Bible. Exodus I. 11. 

** Semites. 


230 


UARDA. 


Rameses kept such a tight hand.* Amongst the work¬ 
men there were sons of rich cattle-holders, for in levying 
the people it was never: ‘ What have you ?’ but ‘ Of 
what race are you ?’ The fortifications and the canal 
which was to join the Nile and the Red Sea had to be 
completed, and the king, to whom be long life, health, 
and prosperity, took the youth of Egypt with him to the 
wars, and left the work to the Amus, who are connected 
by race with his enemies in the east. One lives well in 
Goshen, for it is a fine country, with more than enough 
of corn and grass and vegetables and fish and fowls,** 
and I always had of the best, for amongst my six people 
were two mother’s darlings, whose parents sent me 
many a piece of silver. Every one loves his children, 
but the Hebrews love them more tenderly than other 
people. We had daily our appointed tale of bricks to 
deliver,*** and when the sun burnt hot, I used to help 
the lads, and I did more in an hour than they did in 
three, for I am strong and was still stronger then than I 
am now. 

“ Then came the time when I was relieved. I was 
ordered to return to Thebes, to the prisoners of war 
who were building the great temple of Amon over 
yonder, and as I had brought home some money, and 
it would take a good while to finish the great dwelling 
of the king of the Gods, I thought of taking a wife; but 
no Egyptian. Of daughters of paraschites there were 
plenty; but I wanted to get away out of my father’s 
accursed caste, and the other girls here, as I knew, were 

* For an account of the traces of the Jews in Egypt, see Chabas, Me¬ 
langes, and Ebers, vEgypten und die Bucher Moses, alsoDurch Gozen zum Sinai. 

** See Ebers 1 “ Durch Gosen zum Sinai,” for account of Goshen and its 
mention on the monuments. The charms of this landscape are highly praised in 
a letter written by a clerk to his superior. 

*** Exodus l., 13 and 14. Exodus V., 7 and 8. 


UARDA, 


231 


afraid of our uncleanness. In the low country I had 
done better, and many an Amu and Schasu woman had 
gladly come to my tent. From the beginning I had set 
my mind on an Asiatic. 

“ Many a time maidens taken prisoners in war were 
brought to be sold, but either they did not please me, 
or they were too dear. Meantime my money melted 
away, for we enjoyed life in the time of rest which 
followed the working hours. There were dancers too 
in plenty, in the foreign quarter. 

“ Well, it was just at the time of the holy feast of 
Amon-Chem, that a new transport of prisoners of war 
arrived, and amongst them many women, who were 
sold publicly to the highest bidder. The young and 
beautiful ones were paid for high, but even the older 
ones were too dear for me. 

“ Quite at the last a blind woman was led forward, 
and a withered-looking woman who was dumb, as the 
auctioneer, who generally praised up the merits of the 
prisoners, informed the buyers. The blind woman had 
strong hands, and was bought by a tavern-keeper, for 
whom she turns the handmill to this day;—the dumb 
woman held a child in her arms, and no one could tell 
whether she was young or old. She looked as though 
she already lay in her coffin, and the little one as 
though he would go under the grass before her. And 
her hair was red, burning red, the very color of Typhon. 
Her white pale face looked neither bad nor good, only 
weary, weary to death. On her withered white arms 
blue veins ran like dark cords, her hands hung feebly 
down, and in them hung the child. If a wind were to 
rise, I thought to myself, it would blow her away, and 
the little one with her. 


232 


UARDA. 


“ The auctioneer asked for a bid. All were silent, 
for the dumb shadow was of no use for work; she was 
half-dead, and a burial costs money. 

“Go passed several minutes. Then the auctioneer 
stepped up to her, and gave her a blow with his whip, 
that she might rouse herself up, and appear less 
miserable to the buyers. She shivered like a person 
in a fever, pressed the child closer to her, and looked 
round at every one as though seeking for help—and me 
full in the face. What happened now was a real 
wonder, for her eyes were bigger than any that I ever 
saw, and a demon dwelt in them that had power over 
me and ruled me to the end, and that day it be¬ 
witched me for the first time. 

“It was not hot and I had drunk nothing, and yet 
I acted against my own will and better judgment when, 
as her eyes fell upon me, I bid all that I possessed 
in order to buy her. I might have had her cheaper! 
My companions laughed at me, the auctioneer shrugged 
his shoulders as he took my money, but I took the child 
on my arm, helped the woman up, carried her in a 
boat over the Nile, loaded a stone-cart with my miser¬ 
able property, and drove her like a block of lime home 
to the old people. 

“ My mother shook her head, and my father looked 
as if he thought me mad; but neither of them said a 
word. They made up a bed for her, and on my spare 
nights I built that ruined thing hard by—it was a 
tidy hut once. Soon my mother grew fond of the 
child. It was quite small, and we called it Pennu* 
because it was so pretty, like a little mouse. I kept 
away from the foreign quarter, and saved my wages. 


* Pennu is the name for the mouse in old' Egyptian. 


UARDA. 


233 


and bought a goat, which lived in front of our door 
when I took the woman to her own hut. 

“ She was dumb, but not deaf, only she did not 
understand our language; but the demon in her eyes 
spoke for her and understood what I said. She com¬ 
prehended everything, and could say everything with 
her eyes; but best of all she knew how to thank one. 
No high-priest who at the great hill festival praises the 
Gods in long hymns for their gifts can return thanks 
so earnestly with his lips as she with her dumb eyes. 
And when she wished to pray, then it seemed as 
though the demon in her look was mightier than 
ever. 

“ At first I used to be impatient enough when she 
leaned so feebly against the wall, or when the child 
cried and disturbed my sleep; but she had only to 
look up, and the demon pressed my heart together and 
persuaded me that the crying was really a song. Pennu 
cried more sweetly too than other children, and he 
had such soft, white, pretty little fingers. 

“ One day he had been crying for a long time. At 
last I bent down over him, and was going to scold him, 
but he seized me by the beard. It was pretty to see! 
Afterwards he was for ever wanting to pull me about, 
and his mother noticed that that pleased me, for when 
I brought home anything good, an egg or a flower or 
a cake, she used to hold him up and place his little 
hands on my beard. 

“ Yes, in a few months the woman had learnt to 
hold him up high in her arms, for with care and 
quiet she had grown stronger. White she always re¬ 
mained and delicate, but she grew younger and more 
10 


234 


UARDA. 


beautiful from day to day; she can hardly have num¬ 
bered twenty years when I bought her. What she was 
called I never heard; nor did we give her any name. 
She was ‘ the woman/ and so we called her. 

“ Eight moons passed by, and then the little Mouse 
died. I wept as she did, and as I bent over the little 
corpse and let my tears have free course, and thought— 
now he can never lift up his pretty little finger to you 
again; then I felt for the first time the woman’s soft 
hand on my cheek. She stroked my rough beard as 
a child might, and with that looked at me so grate¬ 
fully that I felt as though king Pharaoh had all 
at once made me a present of both Upper and Lower 
Egypt. 

“ When the Mouse was buried she got weaker again, 
but my mother took good care of her. I lived with 
her, like a father with his child. She was always 
friendly, but if I approached her, and tried to show 
her any fondness, she would look at me, and the demon 
in her eyes drove me back, and I let her alone. 

“ She grew healthier and stronger and more and 
more beautiful, so beautiful that I kept her hidden, 
and was consumed by the longing to make her my 
wife. A good housewife she never became, to be 
sure; her hands were so tender, and she did not even 
know how to milk the goat. My mother did that and 
everything else for her. 

“ In the daytime she stayed in her hut and worked, 
for she was very skillful at woman’s work, and wove 
lace as fine as cobwebs, which my mother sold that 
she might bring home perfumes with the proceeds. 
She was very fond of them, and of flowers too; and 
Uarda in there takes after her. 


UARDA. 


2 35 


“ In the evening, when the folk from the other side 
had left the City of the Dead, she would often walk 
up and down the valley here, thoughtful and often 
looking up at the moon, which she was especially 
fond of. 

“ One evening in the winter-time I came home. It 
was already dark, and I expected to find her in front 
of the door. All at once, about a hundred steps be¬ 
hind old Hekt’s cave, I heard a troop of jackals bark¬ 
ing so furiously that I said to myself directly they had 
attacked a human being, and I knew too who it was, 
though no one had told me, and the woman could not 
call or cry out. Frantic with terror, I tore , a firebrand 
from the hearth and the stake to which the goat was 
fastened out of the ground, rushed to her help, drove 
away the beasts, and carried her back senseless to the 
hut. My mother helped me, and we called her back 
to life. . When we were alone, I wept like a child for 
joy at her escape, and she let me kiss her, and then 
she became my wife, three years after I had bought 
her. 

“ She bore me a little maid, that she herself named 
Uarda; for she showed us a rose, and then pointed to 
the child, and we understood her without words. 

“ Soon afterwards she died. 

“ You are a priest, but I tell you that when I am 
summoned before Osiris, if I am admitted amongst 
the blessed, I will ask whether I shall meet my wife, 
and if the doorkeeper says no, he may thrust me back, 
and I will go down cheerfully to the damned, if I find 
her again there.” 

“ And did no sign ever betray her origin ? ” asked 
the physician. 


236 


UARDA. 


The soldier had hidden his face in his hands; he 
was weeping aloud, and did not hear the question. 
But the paraschites answered : 

“ She was the child of some great personage, for in 
her clothes we found a golden jewel with a precious 
stone inscribed with strange characters. It is very- 
costly, and my wife is keeping it for the little one.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

In the earliest glimmer of dawn the following day, 
the physician Nebsecht having satisfied himself as to 
the state of the sick girl, left the paraschites’ hut and 
made his way in deepest thought to the Terrace Temple 
of Hatasu, to find his friend Pentaur and compose the 
writing which he had promised to the old man. 

As the sun arose in radiance he reached the sanctu¬ 
ary. He expected to hear the morning song of the 
priests, but all was silent. He knocked and the porter, 
still half-asleep, opened the door. 

Nebsecht enquired for the chief of the Temple. 

“ He died in the night,” said the man yawning. 

“ What do you say ? ” cried the physician in sudden 
terror, “ who is dead ?” 

“ Our good old chief, Rui.” 

Nebsecht breathed again, and asked for Pentaur. 

“ You belong to the House of Seti,” said the door¬ 
keeper, “ and you do not know that he is deposed 
from his office ? The holy fathers have refused to 
celebrate the birth of Ra with him. Pie sings for him¬ 
self now, alone up on the watch-tower. There you 
will find him.” 


UARDA. 


237 


Nebsecht strode quickly up the stairs. Several of 
the priests placed themselves together in groups as 
soon as they saw him, and began singing. He paid 
no heed to them, however, but hastened on to the 
uppermost terrace, where he found his friend occupied 
in writing. 

Soon he learnt all that had happened, and wrath- 
fully he cried: “You are too honest for those wise 
gentlemen in the House of Seti, and too pure and 
zealous for the rabble here. I knew it, I knew what 
would come of it if they introduced you to the myste¬ 
ries. For us initiated there remains only the choice 
between lying and silence.” 

“ The old error!” said Pentaur, “ we know that the 
Godhead is One, we name it, ‘The All,’* ‘The Veil of 
the All,’** or simply ‘ Ra.’ But under the name Ra we 
understand something different than is known to the 
common herd; for to us, the Universe is God, and in 
each of its parts we recognize a manifestation of that 
highest being without whom nothing is, in the heights 
above or in the depths below.” 

“To me you can say everything, for I also am ini¬ 
tiated,” interrupted Nebsecht. 

* The sacred text repeatedly calls God the “One,” the “only One.” The 
pantheistic teaching of the Mysteries is most clearly expressed in those texts 
which are found in almost all the Kings’ tombs in Thebes, and on the walls of 
the entrance halls. They have been collected, and contain praises to Ra, 
whose 75 principal manifestations are invoked. These texts and the pantheism 
in the esoteric teaching of the Egyptians are excellently and comprehensively 
treated by E. Naville in “La Litanie du Soleil.” The Text of the Book of 
Death, the Hymn to the Sun preserved at Bulaq, and treated by Stern and 
Grebaut, the inscriptions on the sarcophagi and on the walls of the Temple of 
Ptolemy, and second in order to these, Plutarch’s Treatise on Isis and Osiris, 
the Egyptian Mysteries of lamblichus, and the Discourse of Hermes Trismegistus 
on the Human Soul, are the principal sources for the study of the secret teach¬ 
ing of the Egyptians. The views brought forward and developed in these dis¬ 
courses seem first to have come to perfection in the new kingdom. The Egyp¬ 
tian religion proceeded from a comparatively rude Sun and Nile worship. 

** Teb temt. With a similar meaning Eusebius gives to the universe the 
form of a Greek Theta (©). 


238 


UARDA. 


“ But neither from the laity do I withhold it,” cried 
Pentaur, “ only to those who are incapable of under¬ 
standing the whole, do I show the different parts. Am 
I a liar if I do not say, ‘ I speak,’ but ‘ my mouth speaks,’ 
if I affirm, ‘Your eye sees,’ when it is you yoursell 
who are the seer. When the light of the only One 
manifests itself, then I fervently render thanks to him 
in hymns, and the most luminous of his forms I name 
Ra. When I look upon yonder green fields, I call 
upon the faithful to give thanks to Rennut,* that is, 
that active manifestation of the One, through which 
the corn attains to its ripe maturity. Am I filled with 
wonder at the bounteous gifts with which that divine 
stream whose origin is hidden, blesses our land, then 
I adore the One as the God Hapi,** the secret one. 
Whether we view the sun, the harvest, or the Nile, 
whether we contemplate with admiration the unity and 
harmony of the visible or invisible world, still it is 
always with the Only, the All-embracing One we have 
to do, to whom we also ourselves belong as those 
of his manifestations in which he places his self- 
consciousness. The imagination of the multitude is 
limited.” 

“ And so we lions, 1 *** give them the morsel that 
we can devour at one gulp, finely chopped up, and 
diluted with broth as if for the weak stomach of a 
sick man.” 

“ Not so; we only feel it our duty to temper and 
sweeten the sharp potion, which for men even is almost 

* Goddess of the harvest. 

** The Nile. 

*** “ The priests," says Clement of Alexandria, “allow none to be partici 
pators in their mysteries, except kings or such amongst themselves as are dis¬ 
tinguished for virtue or wisdom.” The same thing is shown by the monuments 
in many places. 



UARDA. 


2 39 


too strong, before we offer it to the children, the babes 
in spirit. The sages of old veiled indeed the highest 
truths in allegorical forms, in symbols, and finally in a 
beautiful and richly-colored mythos, but they brought 
them near to the multitude shrouded it is true but still 
discernible.” 

“ Discernible ?” said the physician, “ discernible ? 
Why then the veil ?” 

“ And do you imagine that the multitude could look 
the naked truth in the face,* and not despair ?” 

“ Can I, can any one who looks straight forward, 
and strives to see the truth and nothing but the truth ?” 
cried the physician. “We both of us know that things 
only are, to us, such as they picture themselves in the 
prepared mirror of our souls. I see grey, grey, and 
white, white, and have accustomed myself in my yearn¬ 
ing after knowledge, not to attribute the smallest part 
to my own idiosyncrasy, if such indeed there be existing 
in my empty breast. You look straight onwards as I 
do, but in you each idea is transfigured, for in your soul 
invisible shaping powers are at work, which set the 
crooked straight, clothe the commonplace with charm, 
the repulsive with beauty. You are a poet, an artist; I 
only seek for truth.” 

“ Only ?” said Pentaur, “it is just on account of that 
effort that I esteem you so highly, and, as you already 
know, I also desire nothing but the truth.” 

“I know, I know,” said the physician nodding, “but 
our ways run side by side without ever touching, and 
our final goal is the reading of a riddle, of which 


* In Sais the statue of Athene (Neith) has the following inscription : “ I am 
the All, the Past, the Present, and the Future, my veil has no mortal yet lifted.” 
Plutarch, Isis and Osiris 9, a similar quotation by Proclus, in Plato’s Timaeus. 


240 


UARDA. 


there are many solutions. You believe yourself to have 
found the right one, and perhaps none exists.” 

“ Then let us content ourselves with the nearest and 
the most beautiful,” said Pentaur. 

“The most beautiful ?” cried Nebsecht indignantly. 
“ Is that monster, whom you call God, beautiful—the giant 
who for ever regenerates himself that he may devour 
himself again ? God is the All, you say, who suffices 
to himself. Eternal he is and shall be, because all that 
goes forth from him is absorbed by him again, and 
the great niggard bestows no grain of sand, no ray of 
light, no breath of wind, without reclaiming it for his 
household, which is ruled by no design, no reason, no 
goodness, but by a tyrannical necessity, whose slave he 
himself is. The coward hides behind the cloud of 
incomprehensibility, and can be revealed only by him¬ 
self—I would I could strip him of the veil! Thus I 
see the thing that you call God!” 

“ A ghastly picture,” said Pentaur, “ because you 
forget that we recognize reason to be the essence 
of the All, the penetrating and moving power of the 
universe which is manifested in the harmonious work¬ 
ing together of its parts, and in ourselves also, since 
we are formed out of its substance, and inspired with 
its soul.” 

“ Is the warfare of life in any way reasonable ?’* 
asked Nebsecht. “ Is this eternal destruction in order to 
build up again especially well-designed and wise ? And 
with this introduction of reason into the All, you pro¬ 
vide yourself with a self-devised ruler, who terribly re¬ 
sembles the gracious masters and mistresses that you 
exhibit to the people.” 


UARDA. 


24I 


“ Only apparently,” answered Pentaur, a only because 
that which transcends sense is communicable through 
the medium of the senses alone. When God manifests 
himself as the wisdom of the world, we call him ‘ the 
Word/ ‘ He, who covers his limbs with names/* as the 
sacred Text expresses itself, is the power which gives 
to things their distinctive forms; the scarabaeus, ‘which 
enters life as its own son’** reminds us of the ever self- 
renewing creative power which causes you to call our 
merciful and benevolent God a monster, but which you 
can deny as little as you can the happy choice of the 
type; for, as you know, there are only male scarabei, 
and this animal reproduces itself.” *** 

Nebsecht smiled. “ If all the doctrines of the mys¬ 
teries,” he said, “ have no more truth than this happily 
chosen image, they are in a bad way. These beetles have 
for years been my friends and companions. I know their 
family life, and I can assure you that there are males 
and females amongst them as amongst cats, apes, and 
human beings. Your ‘good God’ I do not know, and 
what I least comprehend in thinking it over quietly is 
the circumstance that you distinguish a good and evil 
principle in the world. If the All is indeed God, if God 
as the scriptures teach, is goodness, and if besides him is 
nothing at all, where is a place to be found for evil ?” 

“You talk like a school-boy,” said Pentaur indig¬ 
nantly. “ All that is, is good and reasonable in itself, 
but the infinite One, who prescribes his own laws and 
his own paths, grants to the finite its continuance 
through continual renewal, and in the changing forms 

r 

* From inscriptions at Abydos, and the Praises of Ra at Biban el Muluk. 

** From the same Texts. 

*** According to Horapollon, where it is stated: in novov ifa?<sb 9 tiji> 
yiveiiv ex fL ® KaySaoot 


242 


UARDA. 


of the finite progresses for evermore. What we call 
evil, darkness, wickedness, is in itself divine, good, 
reasonable, and clear; but it appears in another light 
to our clouded minds, because we perceive the way 
only and not the goal, the details only, and not the 
whole. Even so, superficial listeners blame the music, 
in which a discord is heard, which the harper has only 
evoked from the strings that his hearers may more 
deeply feel the purity of the succeeding harmony; even 
so, a fool blames the painter who has colored his 
board with black, and does not wait for the completion 
of the picture which shall be thrown into clearer relief 
by the dark background; even so, a child chides the 
noble tree, whose fruit rots, that a new life may spring 
up from its kernel. Apparent evil is but an antechamber 
to higher bliss, as every sunset is but veiled by night, 
and will soon show itself again as the red dawn of a 
new day.” 

“How convincing all that sounds!” answered the 
physician, “all, even the terrible, wins charm from your 
lips; but I could invert your proposition, and declare 
that it is evil that rules the world, and sometimes gives 
us one drop of sweet content, in order that we may 
more keenly feel the bitterness of life. You see har¬ 
mony and goodness in everything. I have observed 
that passion awakens life, that all existence is a conflict, 
that one being devours another.” 

“And do you not feel the beauty of visible creation, 
and does not the immutable law in everything fill you 
with admiration and humility?” 

“For beauty,” replied Nebsecht, “I have never 
sought; the organ is somehow wanting in me to under¬ 
stand it of myself, though I willingly allow you to 


UARDA. 


243 


mediate between us. But of law in nature 1 fully ap¬ 
preciate the worth, for that is the veritable soul of the 
universe. You call the One ‘Temt,’ that is to say the 
total—the unity which is reached by the addition of 
many units; and that pleases me, for the elements of 
the universe and the powers which prescribe the paths 
of life are strictly defined by measure and number— 
but irrespective of beauty or benevolence.’* 

“Such views,” cried Pentaur troubled, “are the re¬ 
sult of your strange studies. You kill and destroy, in 
order, as you yourself say, to come upon the track of 
the secrets of life. Look out upon nature, develop 
the faculty which you declare to be wanting in you, 
and the beauty of creation will teach you without my 
assistance that you are praying to a false god.” 

“I do not pray,” said Nebsecht, “for the law which 
moves the world is as little affected by prayers as the 
current of the sands in your hour-glass. Who tells you 
that I do not seek to come upon the track of the first 
beginning of things? I proved to you just now that I 
know more about the origin of Scarabei than you do. 
I have killed many an animal, not only to study its 
organism, but also to investigate how it has built up 
its form. But precisely in this work my organ for 
beauty has become blunt rather than keen. I tell you 
that the beginning of things is not more attractive to 
contemplate than their death and decomposition.” 

Pentaur looked at the physician enquiringly. 

“I also for once,” continued Nebsecht, “will speak 
in figures. Look at this wine, how pure it is, how 
fragrant; and yet it was trodden from the grape by 
the brawny feet of the vintagers. And thos.e full ears 


244 


UARDA. 


of corn! They gleam golden yellow, and will yield us 
snow-white meal when they are ground, and yet they 
grew from a rotting seed. Lately you were praising 
to me the beauty of the great Hall of Columns nearly 
completed in the Temple of Amon over yonder in 
Thebes.* How posterity will admire it! I saw that 
Hall arise. There lay masses of freestone in wild con¬ 
fusion, dust in heaps that took away my breath, and 
three months since I was sent over there, because 
above a hundred workmen engaged in stone-polishing 
under the burning sun had been beaten to death. 
Were I a poet like you, I would show you a hundred 
similar pictures, in which you would not find much 
beauty. In the meantime, we have enough to do in 
observing the existing order of things, and investigating 
the laws by which it is governed.” 

“I have never clearly understood your efforts, and 
have difficulty in comprehending why you did not turn 
to the science of the haruspices,” said Pentaur. “Do 
you then believe that the changing, and—owing to the 
conditions by which they are surrounded—the depen¬ 
dent life of plants and animals is governed by law, 
rule, and numbers like the movement of the stars ? ” 
“What a question! Is the strong and mighty hand, 
which compels yonder heavenly bodies to roll onward 
in their carefully-appointed orbits, not delicate enough 
to prescribe the conditions of the flight of the bird, 
and the beating of the human heart ? ” 

“There we are again with the heart,” said the poet 
smiling, “ are you any nearer your aim ? ” 


* Begun by Rameses I. continued by Seti I., completed by Raineses II. 
The remains of this immense hall, with its 134 columns, have not their equal in 
the world. 


UARDA. 


245 


The physician became very grave. “ Perhaps to¬ 
morrow even,” he said, “ I may have what I need. You 
have your palette there with red and black color, 
and a writing reed. May I use this sheet of papyrus?” 

“ Of course; but first tell me . . . .” 

“ Do not ask; you would not approve of my scheme, 
and there would only be a fresh dispute.” 

“ I think,” said the poet, laying his hand on his 
friend’s shoulder, “ that we have no reason to fear dis¬ 
putes. So far they have been the cement, the refresh¬ 
ing dew of our friendship.” 

“ So long as they treated of ideas only, and not of 
deeds.” 

“You intend to get possession of a human heart!” 
cried the poet. “ Think of what you are doing! The 
heart is the vessel of that effluence of the universal 
soul, which lives in us.” 

“ Are you so sure of that ?” cried the physician with 
some irritation, “ then give me the proof. Have you 
ever examined a heart, has any one member of my 
profession done so ? The hearts of criminals and 
prisoners of war even are declared sacred from touch, 
and when we stand helpless by a patient, and see our 
medicines work harm as often as good, why is it ? 
Only because we physicians are expected to work as 
blindly as an astronomer, if he were required to 
look at the stars through a board. At Heliopolis I 
entreated the great Urma* Rahotep, the truly learned 
chief of our craft, and who held me in esteem, to allow 
me to examine the heart of a dead Amu; but he re¬ 
fused me, because the great Sechet** leads virtuous 

* High-priest of Heliopolis. 


** The lion-headed goddess. 


246 


UARDA. 


Semites also into the fields of the blessed.* And then 
followed all the old scruples : that to cut up the heart 
of a beast even is sinful, because it also is the 
vehicle of a soul, perhaps a condemned and miserable 
human soul, which before it can return to the One, 
must undergo purification by passing through the bodies 
of animals. I was not satisfied, and declared to him 
that my great-grandfather Nebsecht, before he wrote his 
treatise on the heart,** must certainly have examined 
such an organ. Then he answered me that the divinity 
had revealed to him what he had written, and therefore 
his work had been accepted amongst the sacred writings 
of Toth,*** which stood fast and unassailable as the 
laws of the world; he wished to give me peace for quiet 
work, and I also, he said, might be a chosen spirit, the 
divinity might perhaps vouchsafe revelations to me too. 
I was young at that time, and spent my nights in prayer, 
but I only wasted away, and my spirit grew darker in¬ 
stead of clearer. Then I killed in secret—first a fowl, 
then rats, then a rabbit, and cut up their hearts, and fol¬ 
lowed the vessels that lead out of them, and know little 
more now than I did at first; but I must get to the bot¬ 
tom of the truth, and I must have a human heart.” 

“ What will that do for you ?” asked Pentaur ; “ you 
cannot hope to perceive the invisible and the infinite 
with your human eyes ?” 

“ Do you know my great-grandfather’s treatise ?” 

“ A little,” answered the poet; “ he said that wher¬ 
ever he laid his finger, whether on the head, the hands, 

* According to the inscription accompanying the famous representations 
of the four nations (Egyptians, Semites, Libyans, and Ethiopians) in the tomb of 
Seti 1. 

This treatise forms the most interesting section of the papyrus Ebers. 
Furnished by W. Engelmann, Leipzig. 

*** Called by the Greeks “ Hermetic Books.” The Papyrus Ebers is the 
work called by Clemens of Alexandria “ the Book of Remedies.” 


UARDA. 


247 


or the stomach, he everywhere met with the heart, 
because its vessels go into all the members, and the 
heart is the meeting point of all these vessels. Then 
Nebsecht proceeds to state how these are distributed 
in the different members, and shows—is it not so ?— 
that the various mental states, such as anger, grief, 
aversion, and also the ordinary use of the word heart, 
declare entirely for his view.” 

“ That is it. We have already discussed it, and 
I believe that he is right, so far as the blood is con¬ 
cerned, and the animal sensations. But the pure and 
luminous intelligence in us—that has another seat,” 
and the physician struck his broad but low forehead 
with his hand. “ I have observed heads by the hundred 
down at the place of execution, and I have also re¬ 
moved the top of the skulls of living animals. But 
now let me write, before we are disturbed.”* 

The physician took the reed, moistened it with 
black color prepared from burnt papyrus, and in 
elegant hieratic characters** wrote the paper for the 
paraschites, in which he confessed to having impelled 
him to the theft of a heart, and in the most binding 

* Human brains are prescribed for a malady of the eyes in the Ebers papy¬ 
rus. Herophilus, one of the first scholars of the Alexandrine Museum, studied 
not only the bodies of executed criminals, hut made his experiments also on living 
malefactors. He maintained that the four cavities of the human brain are the 
seat of the soul. 

** At the time of our narrative the Egyptians had two kinds of writing—the 
hieroglyphic, which was generally used for monumental inscriptions, and in 
which the letters consisted of conventional representations of various objects, 
mathematical and arbitrary symbols, and the hieratic, used for writing on papy¬ 
rus, and in which, with the view of saving time, the written pictures underwent 
so many alterations and abbreviations that the originals could hardly be recog¬ 
nized. In the 8th century there was a further abridgment of the hieratic writing, 
which was called the demotic, or people’s writing, and was used in commerce. 
Whilst the hieroglyphic and hieratic writings laid the foundations of the old sa¬ 
cred dialect, the demotic letters were only used to write the spoken language of 
the people. E. de Rouge’s Chrestomathie fgyptienne. H. Brugsch’s Hiero- 
glyphische Grammatik. Le Page Renouf’s shorter hieroglyphical gramipar. 
Ebers’ Ueber das H ieroglyphische Schriftsystem, 2 nd edition, 1875, in the lec¬ 
tures of Virchow Holtzendorff. 


248 


UARDA. 


manner declared himself willing to take the old man’s 
guilt upon himself before Osiris and the judges of 
the dead. 

When he had finished, Pentaur held out his hand 
for the paper, but Nebsecht folded it together, placed 
it in a little bag in which lay an amulet that his dying 
mother had hung round his neck, and said, breathing 
deeply: 

“ That is done. Farewell, Pentaur.” 

But the poet held the physician back; he spoke to 
him with the wannest words, and conjured him to 
abandon his enterprise. His prayers, however, had no 
power to touch Nebsecht, who only strove forcibly to 
disengage his finger from Pentaur’s strong hand, which 
held him as in a clasp of iron. The excited poet did 
not remark that he was hurting his friend, until after 
a new and vain attempt at freeing himself, Nebsecht 
cried out in pain, “You are crushing my finger!” 

A smile passed over the poet’s face, he loosened 
his hold on the physician, and stroked the reddened 
hand like a mother who strives to divert her child 
from pain. 

“ Don’t be angry with me, Nebsecht,” he said, “you 
know my unlucky fists, and to-day they really ought 
to hold you fast, for you have too mad a purpose on 
hand.” 

“ Mad ?” said the physician, whilst he smiled in his 
turn. “ It may be so; but do you not know that we 
Egyptians all have a peculiar tenderness for our follies, 
and are ready to sacrifice house and land to them ?” 

“Our own house and our own land,” cried the 
poet: and then added seriously, “ but not the existence, 
not the happiness of another.” 


UARDA. 


249 


“ Have I not told you that I do not look upon the 
heart as the seat of our intelligence ? So far as I am 
concerned, I would as soon be buried with a ram’s 
heart as with my own.” 

“ I do not speak of the plundered dead, but of the 
living,” said the poet. “ If the deed of the paraschites 
is discovered, he is undone, and you would only have 
saved that sweet child in the hut behind there, to 
fling her into deeper misery.” 

Nebsecht looked at the other with as much astonish¬ 
ment and dismay, as if he had been awakened from 
sleep by bad tidings. Then he cried : “ All that I have, 
I would share with the old man and Uarda.” 

“ And who would protect her ?” 

“ Her father.” 

“ That rough drunkard who to-morrow or the day 
after may be sent no one knows where.” 

“ He is a good fellow,” said the physician inter¬ 
rupting his friend, and stammering violently. “ But 
who would do anything to the child ? She is so— 
so ... . She is so charming, so perfectly sweet and 
lovely.” 

With these last words he cast down his eyes and 
reddened like a girl. 

“You understand that,” he said, “better than I do; 
yes, and you also think her beautiful! Strange! you 
must not laugh if I confess—I am but a man like 
every one else—when I confess, that I believe I have 
at length discovered in myself the missing organ for 
beauty of form—not believe merely, but truly have dis¬ 
covered it, for it has not only spoken, but cried, raged, 
till I felt a rushing in my ears, and for the first time 

was attracted more by the sufferer than by suffering. 
17 


250 


UARDA. 


I have sat in the hut as though spell-bound, and 
gazed at her hair, at her eyes, at how she breathed. 
They must long since have missed me at the House of 
Seti, perhaps discovered all my preparations, when 
seeking me in my room! For two days and nights I 
have allowed myself to be drawn away from my work, 
for the sake of this child. Were I one of the laity, 
whom you would approach, I should say that demons 
had bewitched me. But it is not that,”—and with 
these words the physician’s eyes flamed up—“ it is not 
that! The animal in me, the low instincts of which the 
heart is the organ, and which swelled my breast at her 
bedside, they have mastered the pure and fine emotions 
here—here in this brain; and in the very moment when 
I hoped to know as the God knows whom you call the 
Prince of knowledge, in that moment I must learn that 
the animal in me is stronger than that which I call 
my God.” 

The physician, agitated and excited, had fixed 
his eyes on the ground during these last words, and 
hardly noticed the poet, who listened to him wonder¬ 
ing and full of sympathy. For a time both were silent; 
then Pentaur laid his hand on his friend’s hand, and 
said cordially: 

“ My soul is no stranger to what you feel, and 
heart and head, if I may use your own words, have 
known a like emotion. But I know that what we feel, 
although it may be foreign to our usual sensations, is 
loftier and more precious than these, not lower. Not 
the animal, Nebsecht, is it that you feel in yourself, but 
God. Goodness is the most beautiful attribute of the 
divine, and you have always been well-disposed towards 
great and small; but I ask you, have you ever before 


UARDA. 


2 5 * 

felt so irresistibly impelled to pour out an ocean of 
goodness on another being, whether for Uarda you 
would not more joyfully and more self-forgetfully sacri¬ 
fice all that you have, and all that you are, than to 
father and mother and your oldest friend ?” 

Nebsecht nodded assentingly. 

“Well then,” cried Pentaur, “follow your new and 
godlike emotion, be good to Uarda and do not sacrifice 
her to your vain wishes. My poor friend! With your 
enquiries into the secrets of life, you have never looked 
round upon itself, which spreads open and inviting 
before our eyes. Do you imagine that the maiden 
w r ho can thus inflame the calmest thinker in Thebes, 
will not be coveted by a hundred of the common herd 
when her protector fails her? Need I tell you that 
amongst the dancers in the foreign quarter nine out 
of ten are the daughters of outlawed parents ? Can 
you endure the thought that by your hand innocence 
may be consigned to vice, the rose trodden under foot 
in the mud ? Is the human heart that you desire, 
worth an Uarda ? Now go, and to-morrow come again 
to me your friend who understands how to sympathize 
with all you feel, and to whom you have approached 
so much the nearer to-day that you have learned to 
share his purest happiness.” 

Pentaur held out his hand to the physician, who 
held it some time, then went thoughtfully and lingering¬ 
ly, unmindful of the burning glow of the mid-day sun, 
over the mountain into the valley of the king’s graves 
towards the hut of the paraschites. 

Here he found the soldier with his daughter. 
“ Where is the old man ?” he asked anxiously. 

“ He has gone to his work in the house of the em- 


252 


UARDA. 


balmer,” was the answer. “Ifanything should happen 
to him he bade me tell you not to forget the writing 
and the book. He was as though out of his mind 
when he left us, and put the ram’s heart in his bag and 
took it with him. Do you remain with the little one; 
my mother is at work, and I must go with the prisoners 
of war to Harmontis.”* 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

While the two friends from the House of Seti were 
engaged in conversation, Katuti restlessly paced the 
large open hall of her son-in-law’s house, in which we 
have already seen her. A snow-white cat followed her 
steps, now playing with the hem of her long plain dress, 
and now turning to a large stand on which the dwarf 
Nemu sat in a heap ; where formerly a silver statue had 
stood, which a few months previously had been sold. 

He liked this place, for it put him in a position to look 
into the eyes of his mistress and other full-grown people. 

“ If you have betrayed me! If you have deceived 
me!” said Katuti with a threatening gesture as she 
passed his perch. 

“ Put me on a hook to angle for a crocodile if I 
have. But I am curious to know how he will offer you 
the money.” 

“ You swore to me,” interrupted his mistress with 
feverish agitation, “ that you had not used my name in 
asking Paaker to save us ?” 

“ A thousand times I swear it,” said the little man. 

* The Erment of to-day, the nearest town to the south of Thebes, at a day’s 
journey from that city. 


UARDA. 


2 53 


“Shall I repeat all our conversation? I tell thee he 
will sacrifice his land, and his house—great gate and 
all, for one friendly glance from Nef&t’s eyes.” 

“ If only Mena loved her as he does !” sighed the 
widow, and then again she walked up and down the 
hall in silence, while the dwarf looked out at the garden 
entrance. Suddenly she paused in front of Nemu, and 
said so hoarsely that Nemu shuddered : 

“ I wish she were a widow.” 

4 t 

The little man made a gesture as if to protect him¬ 
self from the evil eye, but at the same instant he slipped 
down from his pedestal, and exclaimed: 

“ There is a chariot, and I hear his big dog barking. 
It is he. Shall I call Nefert ?” 

“No !” said Katuti in a low voice, and she clutched 
at the back of a chair as if for support. 

The dwarf shrugged his shoulders, and slunk behind 
a clump of ornamental plants, and a few minutes later 
Paaker stood in the presence of Katuti, who greeted him 
-with quiet dignity and self-possession. 

Not a feature of her finely-cut face betrayed her in¬ 
ward agitation, and after the Mohar had greeted her she 
said with rather patronizing friendliness : 

“ I thought that you would come. Take a seat. 
Your heart is like your father’s ; now that you are friends 
with us again it is not by halves.” 

Paaker had come to offer his aunt the sum which 
was necessary for the redemption of her husband’s 
mummy. He had doubted for a long time whether he 
should not leave this to his mother, but reserve partly 
and partly vanity had kept him from doing so. He 
liked to display his wealth, and Katuti should learn 
what he could do, what a son-in-law she had rejected. 


254 


UARDA. 


He would have preferred to send the gold, which 
he had resolved to give away, by the hand of one of 
his slaves, like a tributary prince. But that could not 
be done; so he put on his finger a ring set with a 
valuable stone, which king Seti had given to his 
father, and added various clasps and bracelets to his 
dress. 

When, before leaving the house, he looked at him¬ 
self in a mirror, he said to himself with some satisfac¬ 
tion, that he, as he stood, was worth as much as the 
whole of Mena’s estates. 

Since his conversation with Nemu, and the dwarf's 
interpretation of his dream, the path which he must 
tread to reach his aim had been plain before him. 
Nefert’s mother must be won with the gold which 
would save her from disgrace, and Mena must be sent 
to the other world. He relied chiefly on his own reck¬ 
less obstinacy—which he liked to call firm determina¬ 
tion—Nemu’s cunning, and the love-philter. 

He now approached Katuti with the certainty of 
success, like a merchant who means to acquire some 
costly object, and feels that he is rich enough to pay 
for it. But his aunt’s proud and dignified manner 
confounded him. 

He had pictured her quite otherwise, spirit-broken, 
and suppliant; and he had expected, and hoped to 
earn, Nefert’s thanks as well as her mother’s by his 
generosity. Mena’s pretty wife was however absent, 
and Katuti did not send for her even after he had en¬ 
quired after her health. 

The widow made no advances, and some time 
passed in indifferent conversation, till Paaker abruptly 
informed her that he had heard of her son’s reckless 


UARDA. 


2 55 


conduct, and had decided, as being his mother’s 
nearest relation, to preserve her from the degradation 
that threatened her. For the sake of his bluntness, 
which she took for honesty, Katuti forgave the magni¬ 
ficence of his dress, which under the circumstances 
certainly seemed ill-chosen ; she thanked him with 
dignity, but warmly, more for the sake of her children 
than for her own; for life she said was opening before 
them, while for her it was drawing to its close. 

“You are still at a good time of life,” said Paaker. 

“ Perhaps at the best,” replied the widow, “ at any 
rate from my point of view; regarding life as I do as 
a charge, a heavy responsibility.” 

“ The administration of this involved estate must 
give you many anxious hours—that I understand.” 

Katuti nodded, and then said sadly: 

“ I could bear it all, if I were not condemned to 
see my poor child being brought to misery without 
being able to help her or advise her. You once would 
willingly have married her, and I ask you, was there 
a maiden in Thebes—nay in all Egypt—to compare 
with her for beauty ? Was she not worthy to be 
loved, and is she not so still ? Does she deserve 
that her husband should leave her to starve, neglect 
her, and take a strange woman into his tent as if he 
had repudiated her ? I see what you feel about it! 
You throw all the blame on me. Your heart says: 
‘ Why did she break off our betrothal/ and your right 
feeling tells you that you would have given her a 
happier lot.” 

With these words Katuti took her nephew’s hand, 
and went on with increasing warmth. 

“ We know you to-day for the most magnanimous 


256 


TJARDA. 


man in Thebes, for you have requited injustice with 
an immense benefaction; but even as a boy you were 
kind and noble. Your father’s wish has alway been 
dear and sacred to me, for during his lifetime he al¬ 
ways behaved to us as an affectionate brother, and I 
would sooner have sown the seeds of sorrow for my¬ 
self than for your mother, my beloved sister. I brought 
up my child—I guarded her jealously—for the young 
hero who was absent, proving his valor in Syria—for 
you and for you only. Then your father died, my sole 
stay and protector.” 

“ I know it all!” interrupted Paaker looking gloom¬ 
ily at the floor. 

“ Who should have told you ?” said the widow. 
“ For your mother, when that had happened which 
seemed incredible, forbid us her house, and shut her 
ears. The king himself urged Mena’s suit, for he loves 
him as his own son, and when I represented your 
prior claim he commanded;—and who may resist the 
commands of the sovereign of two worlds, the Son of 
Ra ? Kings have short memories; how often did your 
father hazard his life for him, how many wounds had 
he received in his service. For your father’s sake he 
might have spared you such an affront, and such 
pain.” 

“ And have I myself served him, or not ?” asked 
the pioneer flushing darkly. 

“ He knows you less,” returned Katuti apologeti¬ 
cally. Then she changed her tone to one of sympathy, 
and went on: 

“ How was it that you, young as you were, aroused 
his dissatisfaction, his dislike, nay his—” 


UARDA. 


2 57 


“ His what ?” asked the pioneer, trembling with ex¬ 
citement. 

“ Let that pass!” said the widow soothingly. “ The 
favor and disfavor of kings are as those of the Gods. 
Men rejoice in the one or bow to the other.” 

“ What feeling have I aroused in Rameses besides 
dissatisfaction, and dislike ? I insist on knowing !” said 
Paaker with increasing vehemence. 

“You alarm me,” the widow declared. “And in 
speaking ill of you, his only motive was to raise his 
favorite in Nefert’s estimation.” 

“Tell me what he said!” cried the pioneer; cold 
drops stood on his brown forehead, and his glaring 
eyes showed the white eye-balls. 

Katuti quailed before him, and drew back, but he 
followed her, seized her arm, and said huskily: 

“ What did he say ?” 

“ Paaker!” cried the widow in pain and indigna¬ 
tion. “ Let me go. It is better for you that I should 
not repeat the words with which Rameses sought to 
turn Nefert’s heart from you. Let me go, and re¬ 
member to whom you are speaking.” 

But Paaker gripped her elbow the tighter, and ur¬ 
gently repeated his question. 

“ Shame upon you !” cried Katuti, “ you are hurting 
me; let me go! You will not till you have heard 
what he said ? Have your own way then, but the 
words are forced from me! He said that if he did 
not know your mother Setchem for an honest woman, 
he never would have believed you were your father’s 
son—for you were no more like him than an owl to an 
eagle.” 


258 


UARDA. 


Paaker took his hand from Katuti’s arm. “ And so 
—and so—” he muttered with pale lips. 

“ Nefert took your part, and I too, but in vain. 
Do not take the words too hardly. Your father was a 
man without an equal, and Rameses cannot forget that 
we are related to the old royal house. His grand¬ 
father, his father, and himself are usurpers, and there 
is one now living who has a better right to the throne 
than he has.” 

“ The Regent Ani!” exclaimed Paaker decisively. 

Katuti nodded, she went up to the pioneer and 
said in a whisper: 

“ I put myself in your hands, though I know they 
may be raised against me. But you are my natural 
ally, for that same act of Rameses that disgraced and 
injured you, made me a partner in the designs of Ani. 
The king robbed you of your bride, me of my daugh¬ 
ter. He filled your soul with hatred for your arrogant 
rival, and mine with passionate regret for the lost hap¬ 
piness of my child. I feel the blood of Hatasu in my 
veins, and my spirit is high enough to govern men. 
It was I who roused the sleeping ambition of the 
Regent—I who directed his gaze to the throne to 
which he was destined by the Gods. The ministers 
of the Gods, the priests, are favorably disposed to us; 
we have—” 

At this moment there was a commotion in the gar¬ 
den, and a breathless slave rushed in exclaiming: 

“ The Regent is at the gate!” 

Paaker stood in stupid perplexity, but he collected 
himself with an effort and would have gone, but Katuti 
detained him. 

“ I will go forward to meet Ani,” she said. “ He 


UARDA. 


2 59 


will be rejoiced to see you, for he esteems you highly 
and was a friend of your father’s.” 

As soon as Katuti had left the hall, the dwarf 
Nemu crept out of his hiding-place, placed himself in 
front of Paaker, and asked boldly: 

“Well? Did I give thee good advice yesterday, 
or no ?” 

But Paaker did not answer him, he pushed him 
aside with his foot, and walked up and down in deep 
thought. 

Katuti met the Regent half way down the garden. 
He held a manuscript roll in his hand, and greeted 
her from afar with a friendly wave of his hand. 

The widow looked at him with astonishment. 

It seemed to her that he had grown taller and 
younger since the last time she had seen him. 

“ Hail to your highness!” she cried, half in joke 
half reverently, and she raised her hands in supplica¬ 
tion, as if he already wore the double crown of Upper 
and Lower Egypt. “ Have the nine* Gods met you ? 
have the Hathors kissed you in your slumbers ? This 
is a white day—a lucky day—I read it in your face!” 

“That is reading a cipher!” said Ani gaily, but with 
dignity. “ Read this despatch.” 

Katuti took the roll from his hand, read it through, 
and then returned it. 

“ The troops you equipped have conquered the 
allied armies of the Ethiopians,” she said gravely, 


* The Egyptians commonly classed their Gods in Triads, and 3 X 3 ” 9 . 
but also sometimes in groups of 8, ia and 1 s. Tn the tale of “ The Two Brothers ’ 
the Holy Nine meet Batau, and make a wife for him. 


260 


UARDA. 


“ and are bringing their prince in fetters to Thebes, 
with endless treasure, and ten thousand prisoners! The 
Gods be praised!” 

“ And above all things I thank the Gods that my 
general Scheschenk—my foster-brother and friend—is 
returning well and unwounded from the war. I think, 
Katuti, that the figures in our dreams are this day tak¬ 
ing forms of flesh and blood!” 

“ They are growing to the stature of heroes!” cried 
the widow. “ And you yourself, my lord, have been 
stirred by the breath of the Divinity. You walk like 
the worthy son of Ra, the courage of Menth beams in 
your eyes, and you smile like the victorious Horus.” 

“ Patience, patience my friend,” said Ani, moder¬ 
ating the eagerness of the widow; “ now, more than 
ever, we must cling to my principle of over-estimating 
the strength of our opponents, and underrating our 
own. Nothing has succeeded on which I had counted, 
and on the contrary many things have justified my 
fears that they would fail. The beginning of the end 
is hardly dawning on us.” 

“ But successes, like misfortunes, never come singly,” 
replied Katuti. 

“ I agree with you,” said Ani. “ The events of life 
seem to me to fall in groups. Every misfortune brings 
its fellow with it—like every piece of luck. Can you 
tell me of a second success ?” 

“ Women win no battles,” said the widow smiling. 
“ But they win allies, and I have gained a powerful 
one.” 

“ A God or an army ?” asked Ani. 

“ Something between the two,” she replied. “ Paaker, 
the king’s chief pioneer, has joined us;” and she briefly 


UARDA. 


26 l 


related to Ani the history of her nephew’s love and 
hatred. 

Ani listened in silence; then he said with an ex¬ 
pression of much disquiet and anxiety: 

“ This man is a follower of Rameses, and must 
shortly return to him. Many may guess at our projects, 
but every additional person who knows them may be¬ 
come a traitor. You are urging me, forcing me, for¬ 
ward too soon. A thousand well-prepared enemies 
are less dangerous than one untrustworthy ally—” 

“ Paaker is secured to us,” replied Katuti positively. 

“ Who will answer for him ?” asked Ani. 

“ His life shall be in your hand,” replied Katuti 
gravely. “ My shrewd little dwarf Nemu knows that 
he has committed some secret crime, which the law 
punishes by death.” 

The Regent’s countenance cleared. 

“ That alters the matter,” he said with satisfaction. 

“ Has he committed a murder ?” 

“ No,” said Katuti, “but Nemu has sworn to reveal 
to you alone all that he knows. He is wholly devoted 
to us.” 

“Well and good,” said Ani thoughtfully, “but he 
too is imprudent—much too imprudent. You are like 
a rider, who to win a wager urges his horse to leap 
over spears. If he falls on the points, it is he that 
suffers; you let him lie there, and go on your way.” 

“ Or are impaled at the same time as the noble 
horse,” said Katuti gravely. “ You have more to win, 
and at the same time more to lose than we; but the 
meanest clings to life; and I must tell you, Ani, that I 
work for you, not to win any thing through your suc¬ 
cess, but because you are as dear to me as a brother, 


262 


UARDA. 


and because I see in you the embodiment of my 
father’s claims which have been trampled on.” 

Ani gave her his hand and asked: 

“ Did you also as my friend speak to Bent-Anat ?— 
Do I interpret your silence rightly ?” 

Katuti sadly shook her head; but Ani went on: 
“ Yesterday that would have decided me to give her 
up; but to-day my courage has risen, and if the 
Hathors be my friends I may yet win her.” 

With these words he went in advance of the widow 
into the hall, where Paaker was still walking uneasily 
up and down. 

The pioneer bowed low before the Regent, who 
returned the greeting with a half-haughty, half-familiar 
wave of the hand, and when he had seated himself in 
an arm-chair politely addressed Paaker as the son of a 
friend, and a relation of his family. 

“All the world,” he said, “speaks of your reckless 
courage. Men like you are rare; I have none such 
attached to me. I wish you stood nearer to me; but 
Rameses will not part with you, although—although— 
In point of fact your office has two aspects; it requires 
the daring of a soldier, and the dexterity of a scribe. 
No one denies that you have the first, but the second 
<—the sword and the reed-pen are very different 
weapons, one requires supple fingers, the other a sturdy 
fist. The king used to complain of your reports—is he 
better satisfied with them now ?” 

“ I hope so,” replied the Mohar; “ my brother Horus 
is a practised writer, and accompanies me in my 
journeys.” 

“That is well,” said Ani. “ If I had the manage¬ 
ment of affairs I should treble your staff, and give you 


UARDA. 


263 


four—five—six scribes under you, who should be en¬ 
tirely at your command, and to whom you could give 
the materials for the reports to be sent out. Your 
office demands that you should be both brave and cir¬ 
cumspect; these characteristics are rarely united; but 
there are scriveners by hundreds in the temples.” 

“ So it seems to me,” said Paaker. 

Ani looked down meditatively, and continued— 
“ Rameses is fond of comparing you with your father. 
That is unfair, for he—who is now with the justified— 
was without an equal; at once the bravest of heroes 
and the most skilful of scribes. You are judged un¬ 
justly; and it grieves me all the more that you belong, 
through your mother, to my poor but royal house. We 
will see whether I cannot succeed in putting you in the 
right place. For the present you are required in Syria 
almost as soon as you have got home. You have shown 
that you are a man who does not fear death, and 
who can render good service, and you might now enjoy 
your wealth in peace with your wife.” 

“ I am alone,” said Paaker. 

“Then, if you come home again, let Katuti seek 
you out the prettiest wife in Egypt,” said the Regent 
smiling. “ She sees herself every day in her mirror, and 
must be a connoisseur in the charms of women.” 

Ani rose with these words, bowed to Paaker with 
studied friendliness, gave his hand to Katuti, and said 
as he left the hall: 

“ Send me to-day the—the handkerchief—by the 
dwarf Nemu.” 

When he was already in the garden, he turned 
once more and said to Paaker; 


264 


UARDA. 


“ Some friends are supping with me to-day; pray 
let me see you too.” 

The pioneer bowed; he dimly perceived that he 
was entangled in invisible toils. • Up to the present 
moment he had been proud of his devotion to his 
calling, of his duties as Mohar; and now he had dis¬ 
covered that the king, whose chain of honor hung 
round his neck, undervalued him, and perhaps only 
suffered him to fill his arduous and dangerous post 
for the sake of his father, while he, notwithstanding 
the temptations offered him in Thebes by his wealth, 
had accepted it willingly and disinterestedly. He knew 
that his skill with the pen was small, but that was no 
reason why he should be despised; often had he wished 
that he could reconstitute his office exactly as Ani had 
suggested, but his petition to be allowed a secretary 
had been rejected by Rameses. What he spied out, 
he was told was to be kept secret, and no one could 
be responsible for the secrecy of another. 

As his brother Horus grew up, he had followed him 
as his obedient assistant, even after he had married a 
wife, who, with her child, remained in Thebes under 
the care of Setchem. 

He was now filling Paaker’s place in Syria during 
his absence; badly enough, as the pioneer thought, and 
yet not without credit; for the fellow knew how to 
write smooth words with a graceful pen. 

Paaker, accustomed to solitude, became absorbed 
in thought, forgetting everything that surrounded him; 
even the widow herself, who had sunk on to a couch, 
and was observing him in silence. 

He gazed into vacancy, while a crowd of sensations 
rushed confusedly through his brain. He thought him- 


UARDA. 


265 

self cruelly ill-used, and he felt too that it was in¬ 
cumbent on him to become the instrument of a ter¬ 
rible fate to some other person. All was dim and 
chaotic in his mind, his love merged in his hatred; 
only one thing was clear and unclouded by doubt, 
and that was his strong conviction that Nefert would 
be his. 

The Gods indeed were in deep disgrace with him. 
How much he had expended upon them—and with 
what a grudging hand they had rewarded him; he 
knew of but one indemnification for his wasted life, 
and in that he believed so firmly that he counted on 
it as if it were capital which he had invested in sound 
securities. But at this moment his resentful feelings 
embittered the sweet dream of hope, and he strove in 
vain for calmness and clear-sightedness; when such 
cross-roads as these met, no amulet, no divining rod 
could guide him; here he must think for himself, and 
beat his own road before he could walk in it; and yet 
he could think out no plan, and arrive, at no decision. 

He grasped his burning forehead in his hands, and 
started from his brooding reverie, to remember where 
he was, to recall his conversation with the mother of 
the woman he loved, and her saying that she was 
capable of guiding men. 

“She perhaps may be able to think for me,” he 
muttered to himself. “Action suits me better.” 

He slowly went up to her and said: 

“So it is settled then—we are confederates.” 

“ Against Rameses, and for Ani,” she replied, giving 
him her slender hand. 

“In a few days I start for Syria, meanwhile you 

can make up your mind what commissions you have 
18 


266 


UARDA. 


to give me. The money for your son shall be con¬ 
veyed to you to-day before sunset. May I not pay 
my respects to Nefert?” 

“ Not now, she is praying in the temple.” 

“ But to-morrow ? ” 

“ Willingly, my dear friend. She will be delighted 
to see you, and to thank you.” 

“ Farewell, Katuti.” 

“ Call me mother,” said the widow, and she waved 
her veil to him as a last farewell. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

As soon as Paaker had disappeared behind the 
shrubs, Katuti struck a little sheet of metal, a slave 
appeared, and Katuti asked her whether Nefert had 
returned from the temple. 

“ Her litter is just now at the side gate,” was the 
answer. 

# 

“ I await her here,” said the widow. The slave 
went away, and a few minutes later Nefert entered 
the hall. 

“You want me?” she said; and after kissing her 
mother she sank upon her couch. “ I am tired,” she 
exclaimed, “ Nemu, take a fan and keep the flies 
off me.” 

The dwarf sat down on a cushion by her couch, 
and began to wave the semi-circular fan of ostrich- 
feathers; but Katuti put him aside and said: 

“You can leave us for the present; we want to 
speak to each other in private.” 

The dwarf shrugged his shoulders and got up, but 


UARDA. 267 

Nefert looked at her mother with an irresistible ap¬ 
peal. 

“ Let him stay,” she said, as pathetically as if her 
whole happiness depended upon it. “The flies torment 
me so, and Nemu always holds his tongue.” 

She patted the dwarf’s big head as if he were a 
lap-dog, and called the white cat, which with a grace¬ 
ful leap sprang on to her shoulder and stood there 
with its back arched, to be stroked by her slender 
fingers. 

Nemu looked enquiringly at his mistress, but Ka- 
tuti turned to her daughter, and said in a warning 
voice: 

“ I have very serious things to discuss with you.” 

“Indeed?” said her daughter, “but I cannot be 
stung by the flies all the same. Of course, if you 
wish it—” 

“Nemu may stay then,” said Katuti, and her voice 
had the tone of that of a nurse who gives way to 
a naughty child. “ Besides, he knows what I have to 
talk about.” 

“There now!” said Nefert, kissing the head of the 
white cat, and she gave the fan back to the dwarf. 

The widow looked at her daughter with sincere 
compassion, she went up to her and looked for the 
thousandth time in admiration at her pretty face. 

“ Poor child,” she sighed, “ how willingly I would 
spare you the frightful news which sooner or later you 
must hear—must bear. Leave off your foolish play 
with the cat, I have things of the most hideous gravity 
to tell you.” 

“ Speak on,” replied Nefert. “ To-day I cannot fear 
the worst. Mena’s star, the haruspex told me, stands 


268 


UARDA. 


under the sign of happiness, and I enquired of the 
oracle in the temple of Besa, and heard that my hus¬ 
band is prospering. I have prayed in the temple till 
I am quite content. Only speak!—I know my brother’s 
letter from the camp had no good news in it; the 
evening before last I saw you had been crying, and 
yesterday you did not look well; even the pome-i 
granate flowers in your hair did not suit you.” 

“ Your brother,” sighed Katuti, “ has occasioned me' 
great trouble, and we might through him have suffered 
deep dishonor—” 

“We—dishonor?” exclaimed Nefert, and she 
nervously clutched at the cat. 

“Your brother lost enormous sums at play; to 
recover them he pledged the mummy of your father—” 

“Horrible!” cried Nefert. “We must appeal at 
once to the king;—I will write to him myself; for Mena’s 
sake he will hear me. Rameses is great and noble, 
and will not let a house that is faithfully devoted to 
him fall into disgrace through the reckless folly of a 
boy. Certainly I will write to him.” 

She said this in a voice of most childlike con¬ 
fidence, and desired Nemu to wave the fan more 
gently, as if this concern were settled. 

In Katuti’s heart surprise and indignation at the 
unnatural indifference of her daughter were struggling 
together; but she withheld all blame, and said care¬ 
lessly : 

“ We are already released, for my nephew Paaker, 
as soon as he heard what threatened us, offered me 
his help; freely and unprompted, from pure goodness 
of heart and attachment.” 

‘ How good of Paaker!” cried Nefert. “He was so 


UARDA. 


269 


fond of me, and you know, mother, I always stood lip 
for him. No doubt it was for my sake that he be¬ 
haved so generously!” 

The young wife laughed, and pulling the cat’s face 
close to her own, held her nose to its cool little nose, 
stared into its green eyes, and said, imitating childish 
talk: 

“ There now, pussy—how kind people are to your 
little mistress.” 

Katuti was vexed at this fresh outburst of her 
daughter’s childish impulses. 

“ It seems to me,” she said, “ that you might leave 
off playing and trifling when I am talking of such 
serious matters. I have long since observed that the 
fate of the house to which your father and mother be¬ 
long is a matter of perfect indifference to you; and yet 
you would have to seek shelter and protection under 
its roof if your husband—” 

“Well, mother?” asked Nefert raising herself, and 
breathing more quickly. 

As soon as Katuti perceived her daughter’s agitation 
she regretted that she had not more gently led up to 
the news she had to break to her; for she loved her 
daughter, and knew that it would give her keen pain. 

So she went on more sympathetically— 

“You boasted in joke that people are good to 
you, and it is true; you win hearts by your mere being 
.-by only being what you are. And Mena too loved 
you tenderly; but ‘ absence,’ says the proverb, ‘ is the 
one real enemy,’ and Mena—” 

“ What has Mena done ?” Once more Nefert inter¬ 
rupted her mother, and her nostrils quivered. 

“ Mena,” said Katuti, decidedly, “ has violated the 


270 


UARDA. 


truth and esteem which he owes you—lie has trodden 
them under foot, and—” 

“ Mena ?” exclaimed the young wife with flashing 
eyes; she flung the cat on the floor, and sprang from 
her couch. 

“Yes—Mena,” said Katuti firmly. “Your brother 
writes that he would have neither silver nor gold for 
his spoil, but took the fair daughter of the prince of 
the Danaids into his tent. The ignoble wretch!” 

“Ignoble wretch!” cried Nefert, and two or three 
times she repeated her mother’s last words. Katuti 
drew back in horror, for her gentle, docile, childlike 
daughter stood before her absolutely transfigured beyond 
all recognition. 

She looked like a beautiful demon of revenge; her 
eyes sparkled, her breath came quickly, her limbs 
quivered, and with extraordinary strength and rapidity 
she seized the dwarf by the hand, led him to the door 
of one of the rooms which opened out of the hall, threw 
it open, pushed the little man over the threshold, and 
closed it sharply upon him; then with white lips she 
came up to her mother. 

“An ignoble wretch did you call him?” she cried 
out with a hoarse husky voice, “ an ignoble wretch! 
Take back your words, mother, take back your words, 
or—” 

Katuti turned paler and paler, and said sooth¬ 
ingly : 

“ The words may sound hard, but he has broken 
faith with you, and openly dishonored you.” 

“And shall I believe it?” said Nefert with a scorn¬ 
ful laugh. “ Shall I believe it, because a scoundrel has., 
written it, who has pawned his father’s body and the 


UARDA. 


271 

honor of his family; because it is told you by that 
noble and brave gentleman! why a box on the ears 
• from Mena would be the death of him. Look at me, 
mother, here are my eyes, and if that table there were 
Mena’s tent, and you were Mena, and you took the 
fairest woman living by the hand and led her into it, 
and these eyes saw it—aye, over and over again—I 
would laugh at it—as I laugh at it now; and I should 
say, ‘ Who knows what he may have to give her, or to 
say to her/ and not for one instant would I doubt his 
truth; for your son is false and Mena is true. Osiris 
broke faith with Isis*—but Mena may be favored 
by a hundred women—he will take none to his tent 
but me!” 

“ Keep your belief,” said Katuti bitterly, “ but leave 
me mine.” 

“ Yours ?” said Nefert, and her flushed cheeks turned 
pale again. “ What do you believe ? You listen to the 
worst and basest things that can be said of a man who 
has overloaded you with benefits ! A wretch, bah ! an 
ignoble wretch ? Is that what you call a man who lets 
you dispose of his estate as you please!” 

“ Nefert,” cried Katuti angrily, “ I will—” 

“ Do what you will,” interrupted her indignant 
daughter, “ but do not vilify the generous man who 
has never hindered you from throwing away his property 
on your son’s debts and your own ambition. Since the 
day before yesterday I have learned that we are not 
rich; and I have reflected, and I have asked myself 
what has become of our corn and our cattle, of our 
sheep and the rents from the farmers. The wretch’s 
estate was not so contemptible; but I tell you plainly I 

* See Plutarch, Isis and Osiris. 


272 


UARDA. 


should be unworthy to be the wife of the noble Mena 
if I allowed any one to vilify his name under his own 
roof. Hold to your belief, by all means, but one of us 
must quit this house—you or I.” 

At these words Nefert broke into passionate sobs, 
threw herself on her knees by her couch, hid her face 
in the cushions, and wept convulsively and without in¬ 
termission. 

Katuti stood behind her, startled, trembling, and 
not knowing what to say. Was this her gentle, dreamy 
daughter ? Had ever a daughter dared to speak thus 
to her mother? But was she right or was Nefert ? This 
question was the pressing one; she knelt down by the 
side of the young wife, put her arm round her, drew 
her head against her bosom, and whispered pitifully: 

“ You cruel, hard-hearted child; forgive your poor, 
miserable mother, and do not make the measure of her 
wretchedness overflow.” 

Then Nefert rose, kissed her mother’s hand, and 
went silently into her own room. 

Katuti remained alone; she felt as if a dead hand 
held her heart in its icy grasp, and she muttered to 
herself— 

“ Ani is right—nothing turns to good excepting that 
from which we expect the worst.” 

She held her hand to her head, as if she had heard 
something too strange to be believed. Her heart went 
after her daughter, but instead of sympathizing with her 
she collected all her courage, and deliberately recalled 
all the reproaches that Nefert had heaped upon her. 
She did not spare herself a single word, and finally she 
murmured to herself: “ She can spoil every thing. For 
Mena’s sake she will sacrifice me and the whole world; 


UARDA. 


273 


Mena and Rameses are one, and if she discovers what 
we are plotting she will betray us without a moment’s 
hesitation. Hitherto all has gone on without her see¬ 
ing it, but to-day something has been unsealed in her 
-—an eye, a tongue, an ear, which have hitherto been 
closed. She is like a deaf and dumb person, who by 
a sudden fright is restored to speech and hearing. My 
favorite child will become the spy of my actions, and 
my judge.” 

She gave no utterance to the last words, but she 
seemed to hear them with her inmost ear; the voice 
that could speak to her thus, startled and frightened 
her, and solitude was in itself a torture; she called the 
dwarf, and desired him to have her litter prepared, as 
she intended going to the temple, and visiting the 
wounded who had been sent home from Syria. 

“And the handkerchief for the Regent?” asked the 
little man. 

“ It was a pretext,” said Katuti. “ He wishes to 
speak to you about the matter which you know of with 
regard to Paaker. What is it?” 

“Do not ask,” replied Nemu, “I ought not to betray 
it. By Besa, who protects us dwarfs,* it is better that 
thou shouldst never know it.” 

“For to-day I have learned enough that is new to 
me,” retorted Katuti. “Now go to Ani, and if you are 
able to throw Paaker entirely into his power—good—I 
will give—but what have I to give away? I will be 
grateful to you; and when we have gained our end I 
will set you free and make you rich.” 

Nemu kissed her robe, and said in a low voice; 
“ What is the end ?” 


* Perhaps on account of his dwarfish figure. 


274 


UARDA. 


“You know what Ani is striving for,” answered the 
widow. “And I have but one wish!” 

“And that is?” 

“To see Paaker in Mena’s place.” 

“Then our wishes are the same,” said the dwarf 
and he left the Hall. 

Katuti looked after him and muttered: 

“It must be so. For if every thing remains as it was 
and Mena comes home and demands a reckoning—it 
is not to be thought of! It must not be!” 


CHAPTER XX. 


As Nemu, on his way back from his visit to Ani, 
approached his mistress’s house, he was detained by a 
boy, who desired him to follow him to the stranger’s 
quarter. Seeing him hesitate, the messenger showed 
him the ring of his mother Hekt, who had come into 
the town on business, and wanted to speak with him. 

Nemu was tired, for he was not accustomed to walk¬ 
ing; his ass was dead, and Katuti could not afford to 
give him another. Half of Mena’s beasts had been 
sold, and the remainder barely sufficed for the field- 
labor. 

At the corners of the busiest streets, and on the 
market-places, stood boys with asses which they hired 
out for a small sum;* but Nemu had parted with his 
last money for a garment and a new wig, so that he 

* In the streets of modern Egyptian towns asses stand saddled for hire. 
On the monuments only foreigners are represented as riding on asses, but 
these beasts are mentioned in almost every list of the possessions of the nobles, 
even in very early times, and the number is often considerable. There is a 
picture extant of a rich old man who rides on a seat supported on the backs of 
two donkeys. Lepsius, Denkmaler, part n. 126. * 


UARDA. 


2 75 


might appear worthily attired before the Regent. In 
former times his pocket had never been empty, for 
Mena had thrown him many a ring of silver, or even of 
gold, but his restless and ambitious spirit wasted no 
regrets on lost luxuries. He remembered those years 
of superfluity with contempt, and as he puffed and 
panted on his way through the dust, he felt himself 
swell with satisfaction. 

The Regent had admitted him to a private inter¬ 
view, and the little man had soon succeeded in rivet¬ 
ing his attention; Ani had laughed till the tears rolled 
down his cheeks at Nemu’s description of Paaker’s wild 
passion, and he had proved himself in earnest over the 
dwarfs further communications, and had met his de¬ 
mands half-way. Nemu felt like a duck hatched on 
dry land, and put for the first time into water; like a 
bird hatched in a cage, and that for the first time is 
allowed to spread its wings and fly. He would have 
swum or have flown willingly to death if circumstances 
had not set a limit to his zeal and energy. 

Bathed in sweat and coated with dust, he at last 
reached the gay tent in the stranger’s quarter,* where 
the sorceress Hekt was accustomed to alight when she 
came over to Thebes. 

He was considering far-reaching projects, dreaming 
of possibilities, devising subtle plans—rejecting them 
as too subtle, and supplying their place with others 
more feasible and less dangerous; altogether the little 
diplomatist had no mind for the motley tribes which 
here surrounded him. He had passed the temple in 

* Herodotus mentions the Tyrian quarter of Memphis, which lay south¬ 
wards from the temple of Ptah, and in which £ Eivrf ’A(pgo 8 ir 7 / y i. e. the 
foreign Aphrodite, was worshipped. Brugsch has identified it with the quarter 
of the city called the “world of life.” 


27 6 


UARDA. 


which the people of Kaft adored their goddess Astarte,* 
and the sanctuary of Seth, where they sacrificed to 
Baal,** without letting himself be disturbed by the 
dancing devotees or the noise of cymbals and music 
which issued from their enclosures. The tents and 
slightly-built wooden houses of the dancing girls did 
not tempt him. Besides their inhabitants, who in 
the evening tricked themselves out in tinsel finery to 
lure the youth of Thebes into extravagance and folly, 
and spent their days in sleeping till sun-down, only the 
gambling booths drove a brisk business; and the guard 
of police had much trouble to restrain the soldier, who 
had staked and lost all his prize money, or the sailor, 
who thought himself cheated, from such outbreaks of 
rage and despair as must end in bloodshed. Drunken 
men lay in front of the taverns, and others were tsoing 
their utmost, by repeatedly draining their beaker, to 
follow their example. 

Nothing was yet to be seen of the various musicians, 
jugglers, fire-eaters, serpent-charmers, and conjurers, 
who in the evening displayed their skill in this part of 
the town, which at all times had the aspect of a never- 


* Astarte, the great goddess of the Phoenicians, frequently appears on the 
monuments as Sechet. At Edfu she is represented with the lioness-head, and 
drives a chariot drawn by horses. Her name frequently occurs in papyri of 
the time of our story with that of Rameses II., as well as of a favorite horse 
and dog of the king’s. 

** According to the papyrus Sallier I., the Hyksos-king Apepi-Apophis 
“chose Seth for his lord, and worshipped no other god in Egypt.” In later 
times the Semitic god Baal was called Seth by the Egyptians themselves, as 
we learn from the treaty of peace of Rameses II. with the Cheta, found at 
Karnak, in which on one side the Seth of the Cheta (a different god), and 
Astarte are invoked, and on the other the Egyptian gods. The form “ Sutech ” 
occurs with “ Seth. 

Seth-Typhon is discussed in “ Etudes Egyptologiques ” by Diestel, “ Voyage 
d’un Egyptien” by Chabas, “^igypten und die Bucher Moses” by Ebers, and 
lately by E. Meyer, in his “Dissertation liber Seth.” The Phoenician religion 
is exhaustively treated by Movers. 


UARDA. 


2 77 

ceasing fair. But these delights, which Nemu had passed 
a thousand times, had never had any temptation for 
him. Women and gambling were not to his taste; that 
which could be had simply for the taking, without 
trouble or exertion, offered no charms to his fancy; he 
had no fear of the ridicule of the dancing-women, and 
their associates—indeed, he occasionally sought them, 
for he enjoyed a war of words, and he was of opinion 
that no one in Thebes could beat him at having the 
last word. Other people, indeed, shared this opinion, 
and not long before Paaker’s steward had said of 
N emu: 

“ Our tongues are cudgels, but the little one’s is a 
dagger.” 

The destination of the dwarf was a very large and 
gaudy tent, not in any way distinguished from a dozen 
others in its neighborhood. The opening which led 
into it was wide, but at present closed by a hanging of 
coarse stuff. 

Nemu squeezed himself in between the edge of the 
tent and the yielding door, and found himself in an al¬ 
most circular tent with many angles, and with its 
cone-shaped roof supported on a pole by way of a 
pillar. 

Pieces'of shabby carpet lay on the dusty soil that 
was the floor of the tent, and on these squatted some 
gaily-clad girls, whom an old woman was busily en¬ 
gaged in dressing. She painted the finger and toe¬ 
nails of the fair ones with orange-colored Hennah, 
blackened their brows and eye-lashes with Mestem* to 
give brilliancy to their glance, painted their cheeks with 
white and red, and anointed their hair with scented oil. 


* Antimony. 


UARDA. 


2)8 

It was very hot in the tent, and not one of the girls 
spoke a word; they sat perfectly still before the old 
woman, and did not stir a finger, excepting now and 
then to take up one of the porous clay pitchers, which 
stood on the ground, for a draught of water, or to put a 
pill of Kyphi between their painted lips. 

Various musical instruments leaned against the walls 
of the tent, hand-drums, pipes and lutes and four tam¬ 
bourines lay on the ground; on the vellum of one slept 
a cat, whose graceful kittens played with the bells in 
the hoop of another. 

An old negro-woman went in and out of the little 
back-door of the tent, pursued by flies and gnats, 
while she cleared away a variety of earthen dishes with 
the remains of food—pomegranate-peelings, bread¬ 
crumbs, and garlic-tops—which had been lying on one 
of the carpets for some hours since the girls had finished 
their dinner. 

Old Hekt sat apart from the girls on a painted 
trunk, and she was saying, as she took a parcel from her 
wallet: 

“ Here, take this incense, and burn six seeds of it, 
and the vermin will all disappear—” she pointed to the 
flies that swarmed round the platter in her hand. “If 
you like I will drive away the mice too and draw the 
snakes out of their holes better than the priests.”* 

“ Keep your magic to yourself,” said a girl in a husky 
voice. “ Since you muttered your words over me, and 
gave me that drink to make me grow slight and lissom 
again, I have been shaken to pieces with a cough at 
night, and turn faint when I am dancing.” 

* Recipes for exterminating noxious creatures are found in the papyrus 
in my possession. 


UARDA. 


2 79 

“ But look how slender you have grown,” answered 
Hekt, “ and your cough will soon be well.” 

“ When I am dead,” whispered the girl to the old 
woman. “ I know that—most of us end so.” 

The witch shrugged her shoulders, and perceiving 
the dwarf she rose from her seat. 

The girls too noticed the little man, and set up the 
indescribable cry, something like the cackle of hens, 
which is peculiar to Eastern women when something 
tickles their fancy. Nemu was well known to them, 
for his mother always stayed in their tent whenever 
she came to Thebes, and the gayest of them cried 
out: 

“You are grown, little man, since the last time you 
were here.” 

“ So are you,” said the dwarf sharply; “ but only as 
far as big words are concerned.” 

“ And you are as wicked as you are small,” retorted 
the girl. 

“ Then my wickedness is small too,” said the dwarf 
laughing, “ for I am little enough ! Good morning, girls 
—may Besa help your beauty. Good day, mother— 
you sent for me ?” 

The old woman nodded; the dwarf perched himself 
on the chest beside her, and they began to whisper to¬ 
gether. 

“ How dusty and tired you are,” said Hekt. “ I 
do believe you have come on foot in the burning 
sun.” 

“ My ass is dead,” replied Nemu, “and I have no 
money to hire a steed.” 

“A foretaste of future splendor,” said the old 


280 


UARDA. 


woman with a sneer. “ What have you succeeded in 
doing ?” 

“ Paaker has saved us,” replied Nemu, “ and I have 
just come from a long interview with the Regent.” 

“ Well ?” 

“ He will renew your letter of freedom, if you will 
put Paaker into his power.” 

“ Good—good. I wish he would make up his mind 
to come and seek me—in disguise, of course. I 
would—” 

“ He is very timid, and it would not be wise to 
suggest to him anything so unpracticable.” 

“ Hm—” said Hekt, “ perhaps you are right, for 
when we have to demand a good deal it is best only 
to ask for what is feasible. One rash request often 
altogether spoils the patron’s inclination for granting 
favors.” 

“ What else has occurred ?” 

“ The Regent’s army has conquered the Ethiopians, 
and is coming home with rich spoils.” 

“ People may be bought with treasure,” muttered 
the old woman, “ good—good !” 

“ Paaker’s sword is sharpened; I would give no 
more for my master’s life, than I have in my pocket— 
and you know why I came on foot through the dust.” 

“ Well, you can ride home again,” replied his mother, 
giving the little man a small silver ring. “ Has the 
pioneer seen Nefert again ?” 

“ Strange things have happened,” said the dwarf, 
and he told his mother what had taken place between 
Katuti and Nefert. Nemu was a good listener, and 
had not forgotten a word of what he had heard. 


UARDA. 


28r 


The old woman listened to his story with the most 
eager attention. 

“Well, well,” she muttered, “here is another extra¬ 
ordinary thing. What is common to all men is gener¬ 
ally disgustingly similar in the palace and in the hovel. 
Mothers are everywhere she-apes, who with pleasure 
let themselves be tormented to death by their children, 
who repay them badly enough, and the wives gener¬ 
ally open their ears wide if any one can tell them 
of some misbehavior of their husbands! But that is not 
the way with your mistress.” 

The old woman looked thoughtful, and then she con¬ 
tinued: 

“In point of fact this can be easily explained, and 
is not at all more extraordinary than it is that those 
tired girls should sit yawning. You told me once that 
it was a pretty sight to see the mother and daughter 
side by side in their chariot when they go to a festival 
or the Panegyrai;* Katuti, you said, took care that the 
colors of their dresses and the flowers in their hair 
should harmonize. For which of them is the dress 
first chosen on such occasions?” 

“Always for the lady Katuti, who never wears any 
but certain colors,” replied Nemu quickly. 

“You see,” said the witch laughing, “indeed it 
must be so. That mother always thinks of herself first, 
and of the objects she wishes to gain; but they hang 
high, and she treads down everything that is in her 
way—even her own child—to reach them. She will 
contrive that Paaker shall be the ruin of Mena, as sure 
as I have ears to hear with, for that woman is capable 
of playing any tricks with her daughter, and would 

* Festal assemblies with fairs. 

IQ 


282 


UARDA. 


marry her to that lame dog yonder if it would advance 
her ambitious schemes.” 

“ But Nefert!” said Nemu. “ You should have seen 
her. The dove became a lioness.” 

“ Because she loves Mena as much as her mother 
loves herself,” answered Hekt. “As the poets say, ‘she 
is full of him.’ It is really true of her, there is no 
room for any thing else. She cares for one only, and 
woe to those who come between him and her!” 

“ I have seen other women in love,” said Nemu, 
“ but—” 

“ But,” exclaimed the old witch with such a sharp 
laugh that the girls all looked up, “ they behaved dif¬ 
ferently to Nefert—I believe you, for there is not one 
in a thousand that loves as she does. It is a sickness that 
gives raging pain—like a poisoned arrow in an open 
wound, and devours all that is near it like a fire-brand, 
and is harder to cure than the disease which is killing 
that coughing wench. To be possessed by that demon 
of anguish is to suffer the torture of the damned—or 
else,” and her voice sank to softness, “ to be more blest 
than the Gods, happy as they are. I know—I know 
it all; for I was once one of the possessed, one of a 
thousand, and even now—” 

“Well?” asked the dwarf. 

“Folly!” muttered the witch, stretching herself as 
if awaking from sleep. “ Madness! He—is long since 
dead, and if he were not it would be all the same to 
me. All men are alike, and Mena will be like the 
rest.” 

“ But Paaker surely is governed by the demon you 
describe ?” asked the dwarf. 

“ May be,” replied his mother; “ but he is self-willed 


UARDA. 


283 


to madness. He would simply give his life for the 
thing because it is denied him. If your mistress Nefert 
were his, perhaps he might be easier; but what is the 
use of chattering ? I must go over to the gold tent, 
where everyone goes now who has any money in their 
purse, to speak to the mistress—” 

“What do you want with her?” interrupted Nemu. 

“Little Uarda over there,” said the old woman, 
“will soon be quite well again. You have seen her 
lately; is she not grown beautiful, wonderfully beauti¬ 
ful ? Now I shall see what the good woman will offer 
me if I take Uarda to her? the girl is as light-footed 
as a gazelle, and with good training would learn to 
dance in a very few weeks.” 

Nemu turned perfectly white. 

“ That you shall not do,” said he positively. 

“ And why not ?” asked the old woman, “if it pays 
well.” 

“ Because I forbid it,” said the dwarf in a choked 
voice. 

“ Bless me,” laughed the woman; “ you want to play 
my lady Nefert, and expect me to take the part of 
her mother Katuti. But, seriously, having seen the 
child again, have you any fancy for her ?” 

“ Yes,” replied Nemu. “ If we gain our end, Katuti 
will make me free, and make me rich. Then I will 
buy Pinem’s grandchild, and take her for my wife. I 
will build a house near the hall of justice, and give 
the complainants and defendants private advice, like 
the hunch-back Sent, who now drives through the 
streets in his own chariot.” 

“ Hm—” said his mother, “ that might have done 
very well, but perhaps it is too late. When the child 


284 


UARDA. 


had fever she talked about the young priest who was 
sent from the House of Seti by Ameni. He is a fine 
tall fellow, and took a great interest in her; he is a 
gardener’s son, named Pentaur.” 

“ Pentaur ?” said the dwarf. “ Pentaur ? He has the 
haughty air and the expression of the old Mohar, and 
would be sure to rise; but they are going to break his 
proud neck for him.” 

“ So much the better,” said the old woman. “ Uarda 
would be just the wife for you, she is good and steady, 
and no one knows—” 

“ What ?” said Nemu. 

“ Who her mother was—for she was not one of us. 
She came here from foreign parts, and when she died 
she left a trinket with strange letters on it. We must 
show it to one of the prisoners of war, after you have 
got her safe; perhaps they could make out the queer 
inscription. She comes of a good stock, that I am 
certain; for Uarda is the very living image of her 
mother, and as soon as she was born, she looked like 
the child of a great man. You smile, you idiot! Why 
thousands of infants have been in my hands, and if 
one was brought to me wrapped in rags I could tell if 
its parents were noble or base-born. The shape of the 
foot shows it—and other marks. Uarda may stay where 
she is, and I will help you. If anything new occurs let 
me know.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


When Nemu, riding on an ass this time, reached 
home, he found neither his mistress nor Nefert within. 


UARDA. 


285 

The former was gone, first to the temple, and then 
into the town; Nefert, obeying an irresistible impulse, 
had gone to her royal friend Bent-Anat. 

The king’s palace was more like a little town 
than a house.* The wing in which the Regent resided, 
and which we have already visited, lay away from the 
river; while the part of the building which was used 
by the royal family commanded the Nile. 

It offered a splendid, and at the same time a pleasing 
prospect to the ships which sailed by at its foot, for it 
stood, not a huge and solitary mass in the midst of 
the surrounding gardens, but in picturesque groups of 
various outline. On each side of a large structure, 
which contained the state rooms and banqueting hall, 
three rows of pavilions of different sizes extended in 
symmetrical order. They were connected with each 
other by colonnades, or by little bridges, under which 
flowed canals, that watered the gardens and gave the 
palace-grounds the aspect of a town built on islands. 

The principal part of the castle of the Pharaohs 
was constructed of light Nile-mud bricks and elegantly 
carved woodwork, but the extensive walls which sur¬ 
rounded it were ornamented and fortified with towers, 
in front of which heavily armed soldiers stood on 
guard. 

The walls and pillars, the galleries and colonnades, 
even the roofs, blazed in many colored paints, and 
at every gate stood tall masts, from which red and 


* The view accepted by many writers, that the temples were also the 
king’s palace, is erroneous. In the best-preserved temples, as at Dendera and 
Edfu, we know the purpose of the several rooms, and they were all devoted to 
the service of the gods. We learn from the monuments that the kings in¬ 
habited extensive buildings surrounded by gardens, and constructed of light 
materials. The palaces resembled, in fact, the houses of the nobles, but were 
on a larger scale. 


286 


UARDA. 


blue flags fluttered when the king was residing there. 
Now they stood up with only their brass spikes, which 
were intended to intercept and conduct the lightning.* 

To the right of the principal building, and entirely 
surrounded with thick plantations of trees, stood the 
houses of the royal ladies, some mirrored in the lake 
which they surrounded at a greater or less distance. In 
this part of the grounds were the king’s storehouses in 
endless rows, while behind the centre building, in which 
the Pharaoh resided, stood the barracks for his body- 
guard and the treasuries. The left wing was occupied 
by the officers of the household, the innumerable ser¬ 
vants and the horses and chariots of the sovereign. 

In spite of the absence of the king himself, brisk 
activity reigned in the palace of Raineses, for a hundred 
gardeners watered the turf, the flower-borders, the shrubs 
and trees; companies of guards passed hither and thither; 
horses were being trained and broken; and the princess’s 
wing was as full as a beehive of servants and maids, 
officers and priests. 

Nefert was well known in this part of the palace. 
The gate-keepers let her litter pass unchallenged, with 
low bows; once in the garden, a lord in waiting received 
her, and conducted her to the chamberlain, who, after a 
short delay, introduced her into the sitting-room of the 
king’s favorite daughter. 

Bent-Anat’s apartment was on the first floor of the 
pavilion, next to the king’s residence. Her dead mother 
had inhabited these pleasant rooms, and when the prin¬ 
cess was grown up it made the king happy to feel that 
she was near him; so the beautiful house of the wife 
who had too early departed, was given up to her, and 


* According to an inscription first interpreted by Diimichen. 


UARDA. 


287 


at the same time, as she was his eldest daughter, many 
privileges were conceded to her, which hitherto none 
but queens had enjoyed. 

The large room, in which Nefert found the princess, 
commanded the river. A doorway, closed with light 
curtains, opened on to a long balcony with a finely- 
worked balustrade of copper-gilt, to which clung a 
climbing rose with pink flowers. 

When Nefert entered the room, Bent-Anat was just 
having the rustling curtain drawn aside by her waiting- 
women; for the sun was setting, and at that hour she 
loved to sit on the balcony, as it grew cooler, and watch 
with devout meditation the departure of Ra, who, as the 
grey-haired Turn,* vanished behind the western horizon 
of the Necropolis in the evening to bestow the blessing 
of light on the under-world. 

Nefert’s apartment was far more elegantly appointed 
than the princess’s; her mother and Mena had sur¬ 
rounded her with a thousand pretty trifles. Her carpets 
were made of sky-blue and silver brocade from Damas¬ 
cus, the seats and couches were covered with stuff em¬ 
broidered in feathers by the Ethiopian women, which 
looked like the breasts of birds. The images of the 
Goddess Hathor, which stood on the house-altar, were 
of an imitation of emerald, which was called Mafkat, 
, and the other little figures, which were placed near their 
patroness, were of lapis-lazuli, malachite, agate and 
bronze, overlaid with gold. On her toilet-table stood a 
collection of salve-boxes, and cups of ebony and ivory 
finely carved, and everything was arranged with the 
utmost taste, and exactly suited Nefert herself. 

Bent-Anat’s room also suited the owner. 


* See note page 9. 


288 


UARDA. 


It was high and airy, and its furniture consisted in 
costly but simple necessaries; the lower part of the wall 
was lined with cool tiles of white and violet earthen- 
ware, on each of which was pictured a star, and which, 
all together, formed a tasteful pattern. Above these the 
walls were covered with a beautiful dark green material 
brought from Sais, and the same stuff was used to cover 
the long divans by the wall. Chairs and stools, made 
of cane, stood round a very large table in the middle of 
this room, out of which several others opened; all 
handsome, comfortable, and harmonious in aspect, but 
all betraying that their mistress took small pleasure in 
trifling decorations. But her chief delight was in finely- 
grown plants, of which rare and magnificent specimens, 
artistically arranged on stands, stood in the corners of 
many of the rooms. In others there were tall obelisks 
of ebony, which bore saucers for incense, which all the 
Egyptians loved, and which was prescribed by their 
physicians to purify and perfume their dwellings. Her 
simple bedroom would have suited a prince who loved 
floriculture, quite as well as a princess. 

Before all things Bent-Anat loved air and light. 
The curtains of her windows and doors were only 
closed when the position of the sun absolutely required 
it; while in Nefert’s rooms, from morning till evening, 
a dim twilight was maintained. 

The princess went affectionately towards the chari¬ 
oteer’s wife, who bowed low before her at the threshold; 
she took her chin with her right hand, kissed her deli¬ 
cate narrow forehead, and said: 

“ Sweet creature! At last you have come uninvited 
to see lonely me! It is the first time since our men 
went away to the war. If Raineses’ daughter com- 


UARDA. 289 

mands there is no escape, and you come; but of your 
own free will—” 

Nefert raised her large eyes, moist with tears, with 
an imploring look, and her glance was so pathetic 
that Bent-Anat interrupted herself, and taking both her 
hands, exclaimed: 

“ Do you know who must have eyes exactly like 
yours? I mean the Goddess from whose tears, when 
they fall on the earth, flowers spring.” 

Nefert’s eyes fell and she blushed deeply. 

“ I wish,” she murmured, “ that my eyes might close 
for ever, for I am very unhappy.” And two large tears 
rolled down her cheeks. 

‘‘What has happened to you, my darling?” asked 
the princess sympathetically, and she drew her towards 
her, putting her arm round her like a sick child. 

Nefert glanced anxiously at the chamberlain, and 
the ladies in waiting who had entered the room with 
her, and Bent-Anat understood the look; she requested 
her attendants to withdraw, and when she was alone 
with her sad little friend—“Speak now,” she said. 
“ What saddens your heart ? how comes this melancholy 
expression on your dear baby face? Tell me, and I 
will comfort you, and you shall be my bright thought¬ 
less plaything once more.” 

“Thy plaything!” answered Nefert, and a flash of 
displeasure sparkled in her eyes. “Thou art right to 
call me so, for I deserve no better name. I have sub¬ 
mitted all my life to be nothing but the plaything of 
others.” 

“But, Nefert, I do not know you again,” cried Bent- 
Anat. “Is this my gentle amiable dreamer?” 

“That is the word I wanted,” said Nefert in a low- 


290 


UARDA. 


tone. “I slept, and dreamed, and dreamed on—till 
Mena awoke me; and when he left me I went to sleep 
again, and for two whole years I have lain dreaming; but 
to-day I have been torn from my dreams so suddenly 
and roughly, that I shall never find any rest again.” 

While she spoke, heavy tears fell slowly one after 
another over her cheeks. 

Bent-Anat felt what she saw and heard as deeply 
as if Nefert were her own suffering child. She lovingly 
drew the young wife down by her side on the divan, 
and insisted on Nefert’s letting her know all that 
troubled her spirit. 

Katuti’s daughter had in the last few hours felt like 
one born blind, and who suddenly receives his sight. 
He looks at the brightness of the sun, and the mani¬ 
fold forms of the creation around him, but the beams 
of the day-star blind his eyes, and the new forms, 
which he has sought to guess at in his mind, and which 
throng round him in their rude reality, shock him and 
pain him. To-day, for the first time, she had asked 
herself wherefore her mother, and not she herself, was 
called upon to control the house of which she neverthe¬ 
less was called the mistress,* and the answer had rung 
in her ears: “Because Mena thinks you incapable of 
thought and action.” He had often called her his 
little rose, and she felt now that she was neither more nor 
less than a flower that blossoms and fades, and only 
charms the eye by its color and beauty. 

“My mother,” she said to Bent-Anat, “no doubt 
loves me, but she has managed badly for Mena, very 
badly; and I, miserable idiot, slept and dreamed of 
Mena, and saw and heard nothing of what was happen- 

* Mistress of the House is the usual title of the wives of aristocratic Egyptians. 


TJARDA. 


291 

ing to his—to our—inheritance. Now my mother is 
afraid of my husband, and those whom we fear, says 
my uncle, we cannot love, and we are always ready to 
believe evil of those we do not love. So she lends an 
ear to those people who blame Mena, and say of him 
that he has driven me out of his heart, and has taken 
a strange woman to his tent. But it is false and a lie; 
and I cannot and will not countenance my own mother 
even, if she embitters and mars what is left to me— 
what supports me—the breatli and blood of my life— 
my love, my fervent love for my husband.” 

Bent-Anat had listened to her without interrupting 
her; she sat by her for a time in silence. Then she 
said: 

“Come out into the gallery; then I will tell you what 
I think, and perhaps Toth may pour some helpful counsel 
into my mind. I love you, and I know you well, and 
though I am not wise, I have my eyes open and a strong 
hand. Take it, come with me on to the balcony.” 

A refreshing breeze met the two women as they 
stepped out into the air. It was evening, and a reviv¬ 
ing coolness had succeeded the heat of the day. The 
buildings and houses already cast long shadows, and 
numberless boats, with the visitors returning from the 
Necropolis, crowded the stream that rolled its swollen 
flood majestically northwards. 

Close below lay the verdant garden, which sent 
odors from the rose-beds up to the princess’s balcony. 
A famous artist had laid it out in the time of Hatasu, 
and the picture which he had in his mind, when he 
sowed the seeds and planted the young shoots, was now 
realized, many decades after his death. He had thought 
of planning a carpet, on which the palace should seem 


292 


TJARDA. 


to stand. Tiny streams, in bends and curves, formed 
the outline of the design, and the shapes they enclosed 
were filled with plants of every size, form, and color; 
beautiful plats of fresh green turf everywhere represented 
the groundwork of the pattern, and flower-beds and 
clumps of shrubs stood out from them in harmonious 
mixtures of colors, while the tall and rare trees, of which 
Hatasu’s ships* had brought several from Arabia, gave 
dignity and impressiveness to the whole. 

Clear drops sparkled on leaf and flower and blade, 
for, only a short time before, the garden by Bent-Anat’s 
house had been freshly watered. The Nile beyond 
surrounded an island, where flourished the well-kept 
sacred grove of Amon. 

The Necropolis on the farther side of the river was 
also well seen from Bent-Anat’s balcony. There stood 
in long perspective the rows of sphinxes, which led from 
the landing-place of the festal barges to the gigantic 
buildings of Amenophis III. with its colossi—the hugest 
in Thebes—to the House of Seti, and to the temple of 
Hatasu. There lay the long workshops of the em- 
balmers and closely-packed homes of the inhabitants of 
the City of the Dead. In the farthest west rose the 
Libyan mountains with their innumerable graves, and 
the valley of the kings’ tombs took a wide curve behind, 
concealed by a spur of the hills. 

The two women looked in silence towards the west. 
The sun was near the horizon—now it touched it, now 
it sank behind the hills; and as the heavens flushed 
with hues like living gold, blazing rubies, and liquid 
garnet and amethyst, the evening chant rang out from 

* Neha trees brought to Egypt in large tubs are represented in Hatasu’s 
temple at Der el Bahri. 


UARDA. 


2 93 


all the temples, and the friends sank on their knees, 
hid their faces in the bower-rose garlands that clung 
to the trellis, and prayed with full hearts. 

When they rose night was spreading over the land¬ 
scape, for the twilight is short in Thebes. Here and 
there a rosy cloud fluttered across the darkening sky, 
and faded gradually as the evening star appeared. 

“I am content,” said Bent-Anat. “And you? have 
you recovered your peace of mind ?” 

Nefert shook her head. The princess drew her on to 
a seat, and sank down beside her. Then she began again: 

“ Your heart is sore, poor child; they have spoilt the 
past for you, and you dread the future. Let me be 
frank with you, even if it gives you pain. You are sick, 
and I must cure you. Will you listen to me ?” 

“Speak on,” said Nefert. 

“ Speech does not suit me so well as action,” re¬ 
plied the princess; “ but I believe I know what you 
need, and can help you. You love your husband; duty 
calls him from you, and you feel lonely and neglected; 
that is quite natural. But those whom I love, my 
father and my brothers, are also gone to the war; my 
mother is long since dead; the noble woman, whom the 
king left to be my companion, was laid low a few 
weeks since by sickness. Look what a half-abandoned 
spot my house is! Which is the lonelier do you think, 
you or I ?” 

“ I,” said Nefert. “ For no one is so lonely as a 
wife parted from the husband her heart longs after.” 

“ But you trust Mena’s love for you ?” asked Bent- 
Anat. 

Nefert pressed her hand to her heart and nodded 
assent; 


294 


UARDA. 


“ And he will return, and with him your happiness.” 

“ I hope so,” said Nefert softly. 

“ And he who hopes,” said Bent-Anat, “ possesses 
already the joys of the future. Tell me, would you 
have changed places with the Gods so long as Mena 
was with you? No! Then you are most fortunate, 
for blissful memories—the joys of the past—are yours 
at any rate. What is the present ? I speak of it, and 
it is no more. Now, I ask you, what joys can I look 
forward to, and what certain happiness am I justified 
in hoping for ? 

“ Thou dost not love any one,” replied Nefert. 
“ Thou dost follow thy own course, calm and un¬ 
deviating as the moon above us. The highest joys are 
unknown to thee, but for the same reason thou dost 
not know the bitterest pain.” 

“ What pain ?” asked the princess. 

“ The torment of a heart consumed by the fires of 
Sechet,” replied Nefert. 

The princess looked thoughtfully at the ground, 
then she turned her eyes eagerly on her friend. 

“You are mistaken,” she said; “ I know what love 
and longing are. But you need only wait till a feast- 
day to wear the jewel that is your own, while my 
treasure is no more mine than a pearl that I see 
gleaming at the bottom of the sea.” 

“ Thou canst love!” exclaimed Nefert with joyful 
excitement. “ Oh! I thank Hathorthat at last she has 
touched thy heart. The daughter of Rameses need 
not even send for the diver to fetch the jewel out of 
the sea; at a sign from her the pearl will rise of itself, 
and lie on the sand at her slender feet.” 

Bent-Anat smiled and kissed Nefert’s brow. 


UARDA. 


2 95 


“How it excites you,” she said, “and stirs your 
heart and tongue! If two strings are tuned in har¬ 
mony, and one is struck, the other sounds, my music- 
master tells me. I believe you would listen to me till 
morning if I only talked to you about my love. But 
it was not for that that we came out on the balcony. 
Now listen ! I am as lonely as you, I love less happily 
than you, the House of Seti threatens me with evil 
times—and yet I can preserve my full confidence in 
life and my joy in existence. How can you explain 
this ?” 

“We are so very different,” said Nefert. 

“ True,” replied Bent-Anat, “ but we are both young, 
both women, and both wish to do right. My mother 
died, and I have had no one to guide me, for I who 
for the most part need some one to lead me can al¬ 
ready command, and be obeyed. You had a mother 
to bring you up, who, when you were still a child, was 
proud of her pretty little daughter, and let her—as it 
became her so well—dream and play, without warning 
her against the dangerous propensity. Then Mena 
courted you. You love him truly, and in four long 
years he has been with you but a month or two; your 
mother remained with you, and you hardly observed 
that she was managing your own house for you, and 
took all the trouble of the household. You had a 
great pastime of your own—your thoughts of Mena, 
and scope for a thousand dreams in your distant 
love. I know it, Nefert; all that you have seen and 
heard and felt in these twenty months has centred in 
him and him alone. Nor is it wrong in itself. The 
rose tree here, which clings to my balcony, delights us 
both; but if the gardener did not frequently prune it 


296 


UARDA. 


and tie it with palm-bast, in this soil, which forces 
everything to rapid growth, it would soon shoot up so 
high that it would cover door and window, and I 
should sit in darkness. Throw this handkerchief over 
your shoulders, for the dew falls as it grows cooler, 
and listen to me a little longer!—The beautiful 
passion of love and fidelity has grown unchecked in 
your dreamy nature to such a height, that it darkens 
your spirit and your judgment. Love, a true love, it 
seems to me, should be a noble fruit-tree, and not a 
rank weed. I do not blame you, for she who should 
have been the gardener did not heed—and would not 
heed—what was happening. Look, Nefert, so long as 
I wore the lock of youth, I too did what I fancied. 
I never found any pleasure in dreaming, but in wild 
games with my brothers, in horses and in falconry ;* 
they often said I had the spirit of a boy, and indeed 
I would willingly have been a boy.” 

“Not I—never!” said Nefert. 

“ You are just a rose—my dearest,” said Bent-Anat. 
“Well! when I was fifteen I was so discontented, so 
insubordinate and full of all sorts of wild behavior, so 
dissatisfied in spite of all the kindness and love that 
surrounded me—but I will tell you what happened. 
It is four years ago, shortly before your wedding with 
Mena; my father called me to play draughts.** You 
know how certainly he could beat the most skilful 
antagonist; but that day his thoughts were wandering, 
and I won the game twice following. Full of insolent 
delight, I jumped up and kissed his great handsome 

* In many papyri of the period of this narrative the training of falcons is 
mentioned. 

** At Medinet Habu a picture represents Rameses the Third, not Raineses 
the Second, playing at draughts with his daughter. 


UARDA. 


297 

forehead, and cried ‘ The sublime God, the hero, under 
whose feet the strange nations writhe,* to whom the 
priests and the people pray — is beaten by a girl!’ 
He smiled gently, and answered ‘The Lords of Heaven 
are often outdone by the Ladies, and Necheb,** the 
lady of victory, is a woman.’ Then he grew graver, 
and said: ‘You call me a God, my child, but in this 
only do I feel truly godlike, that at every moment 
I strive to the utmost to prove myself useful by my 
labors; here restraining, there promoting, as is need¬ 
ful.*** Godlike I can never be but by doing or 
producing something great!’ These words, Nefert, fell 
like seeds in my soul. At last I knew what it was 
that w r as wanting to me; and when, a few weeks later, 
my father and your husband took the field with a 
hundred thousand fighting men, I resolved to be 
worthy of my godlike father, and in my little circle 
to be of use too! You do not know all that is done 
in the houses behind there, under my direction. Three 
hundred girls spin pure flax, and weave it into bands 
of linen for the wounds of the soldiers; numbers of 
children, and old women, gather plants on the moun¬ 
tains, and others sort them according to the instruc¬ 
tions of a physician; in the kitchens no banquets are 
prepared, but fruits are preserved in sugar for the 
loved ones, and the sick in the camp. Joints of meat 
are salted, dried, and smoked for the army on its 

* A formula often recurring in the reports of victories. 

** The Eileithyia of the Greeks. The Goddess of the South, in contradis¬ 
tinction to Buto, the Goddess of the North. She often flies, in the form of a 
vulture, as the goddess of victory at the head of the troops led to war by the 
Pharaoh. 

The crook-shaped staff, and the whip or scourge are emblems rarely 
missing from the representations of the Pharaohs, and several of the gods: 
they probably refer to the duty of a king, who must exercise both restraint and 
coercion. 


298 


UARDA. 


march through the desert. The butler no longer thinks 
of drinking-bouts, but brings me '.vine in great stone 
jars; we pour it into well-closed skins for the soldiers, 
and the best sorts we put into strong flasks, carefully 
sealed with pitch, that they may perform the journey 
uninjured, and warm and rejoice the hearts of our 
heroes. All that, and much more, I manage and ar¬ 
range, and my days pass in hard work. The Gods send 
me no bright visions in the night, for after utter fatigue 
I sleep soundly. • But I know that I am of use. I can 
hold my head proudly, because in some degree I re¬ 
semble my great father; and if the king thinks of me 
at all I know he can rejoice in the doings of his child. 
That is the end of it, Nefert—and I only say, Come 
and join me, work with me, prove yourself of use, and 
compel Mena to think of his wife, not with affection 
only, but with pride.” Nefert let her head sink slowly 
on Bent-Anat’s bosom, threw her arms round her neck, 
and wept like a child. At last she composed herself 
and said humbly: 

“Take me to school, and teach me to be useful.” 

“ I knew,” said the princess smiling, “ that you only 
needed a guiding hand. Believe me, you will soon 
learn to couple content and longing. But now hear 
this! At present go home to your mother, for it is late; 
and meet her lovingly, for that is the will of the Gods. 
To-morrow morning I will go to see you, and beg 
Katuti to let you come to me as companion in the 
place of my lost friend. The day after to-morrow 
you will come to me in the palace. You can live in 
the rooms of my departed friend and begin, as she 
had done, to help me in my work. May these hours 
be blest to you!” 


UARDA. 


299 


CHAPTER XXII. 


At the time of this conversation the leech Neb- 
secht still lingered in front of the hovel of the para- 
schites, and waited with growing impatience for the 
old man’s return. 

At first he trembled for him; then he entirely forgot 
the danger into which he had thrown him, and only 
hoped for the fulfilment of his desires, and for wonder¬ 
ful revelations through his investigations of the human 
heart. 

For some minutes he gave himself up to scientific 
considerations; but he became more and more agitated 
by anxiety for the paraschites, and by the exciting 
vicinity of Uarda. 

For hours he had been alone with her, for her 
father and grandmother could no longer stop away 
from their occupations. The former must go to escort 
prisoners of war to Hermonthis, and the old woman, 
since her granddaughter had been old enough to 
undertake the small duties oi the household, had been 
one of the wailing-women, who, with hair all dis¬ 
hevelled, accompanied the corpse on its way to the 
grave, weeping, and lamenting, and casting Nile-mud 
on their forehead and breast. Uarda still lay, when 
the sun was sinking, in front of the hut. 

She looked weary and pale. Her long hair had 
come undone, and once more got entangled with the 
straw of her humble couch. If Nebsecht went near 
her to feel her pulse or to speak to her she carefully 
turned her face from him. 


3 °° 


UARDA. 


Nevertheless when the sun disappeared behind the 
rocks he bent over her once more, and said: 

“ It is growing cool; shall I carry you indoors?” 

“ Let me alone,” she said crossly. “ I am hot, keep 
farther away. I am no longer ill, and could go in¬ 
doors by myself if I wished; but grandmother will be 
here directly.” 

Nebsecht rose, and sat down on a hen-coop that 
was some paces from Uarda, and asked stammering: 

“ Shall I go farther off?” 

“ Do as you please,” she answered. 

“You are not kind,” he said sadly. 

“You sit looking at me,” said Uarda, “I cannot 
bear it; and I am uneasy—for grandfather was quite 
different this morning from his usual self, and talked 
strangely about dying, and about the great price that 
was asked of him for curing me. Then he begged me 
never to forget him, and was so excited and so strange. 
He is so long away; I wish he were here, with me.” 

And with these words Uarda began to cry silently. 
A nameless anxiety for the paraschites seized Nebsecht, 
and it struck him to the heart that he had demanded 
a human life in return for the mere fulfilment of a duty. 
He knew the law well enough, and knew that the old 
man would be compelled without respite or delay to 
empty the cup of poison if he were found guilty of the 
theft of a human heart. 

It was dark: Uarda ceased weeping, and said to 
the surgeon: 

“ Can it be possible that he has gone into the city 
to borrow the great sum of money that thou—or thy 
temple—demandest for thy medicine ? But there is 
the princess’s golden bracelet, and half of father’s 


UARDA. 


3 ° I 


prize, and in the chest two years’ wages that grand¬ 
mother had earned by wailing, lie untouched. Is all 
that not enough ? ” 

The girl’s last question was full of resentment and 
reproach, and Nebsecht, whose perfect sincerity was 
part of his very being, was silent, as he would not 
venture to say yes. He had asked more in return for 
his help than gold or silver. Now he remembered Pen- 
taur’s warning, and when the jackals began to bark he 
took up the fire-stick,* and lighted some fuel that was 
lying ready. Then he asked himself what Uarda’s 
fate would be without her grandparents, and a strange 
plan which had floated vaguely before him for some 
hours, began now to take a distinct outline and in¬ 
telligible form. He determined if the old man did 
not return to ask the kolchytes or embalmers to admit 
him into their guild**—and for the sake of his adroit¬ 
ness they were not likely to refuse him—then he would 
make Uarda his wife, and live apart from the world, 
for her, for his studies, and for his new calling, in 
which he hoped to learn a great deal. What did he 
care for comfort and proprieties, for recognition from 
his fellow-men, and a superior position! 

He could hope to advance more quickly along the 
new stony path than on the old beaten track. The im¬ 
pulse to communicate his acquired knowledge to 
others he did not feel. Knowledge in itself amply 
satisfied him, and he thought no more of his ties to 
the House of Seti. For three whole days he had not 


* The hieroglyphic sign Sam seems to me to represent the wooden stick 
used to produce fire (as among some savage tribes) by rapid friction in a 
hollow piece of wood. 

** This guild still existed in Roman times, and we have much information 
about it in various Greek papyri. 


3°2 


UARDA. 


changed his garments, no razor had touched his chin 
or his scalp, not a drop of water had wetted his hands 
or his feet. He felt half bewildered and almost as if 
he had already become an embalmer, nay even a 
paraschites, one of the most despised of human beings. 
This self-degradation had an infinite charm, for it 
brought him down to the level of Uarda, and she, 
lying near him, sick and anxious, with her dishevelled 
hair, exactly suited the future which he painted to 
himself. 

“Do you hear nothing?” Uarda asked suddenly. 

He listened. In the valley there was a barking ot 
dogs, and soon the paraschites and his wife appeared, 
and, at the door of their hut, took leave of old Hekt, 
who had met them on her return from Thebes. 

“You have been gone along time,” cried Uarda, 
when her grandmother once more stood before her. “ I 
have been so frightened.” 

“The doctor was with you,” said the old woman 
going into the house to prepare their simple meal, 
while the paraschites knelt down by his granddaugh¬ 
ter, and caressed her tenderly, but yet with respect, 
as if he were her faithful servant rather than her blood- 
relation. 

Then he rose, and gave to Nebsecht, who was 
trembling with excitement, the bag of coarse linen 
which he was in the habit of carrying tied to him by 
a narrow belt. 

“The heart is in that,” he whispered to the leech; 
“take it out, and give me back the bag, for my knife 
is in it, and I want it.” 

Nebsecht took the heart out of the covering with 
trembling hands ; and laid it carefully down. Then he 


UARDA. 


3°3 


felt in the breast of his dress, and going up to the 
paraschites he whispered: 

“ Here, take the w'riting, hang it round your neck, 
and when you die I will have the book of scripture 
wrapped up in your mummy cloths like a great man. 
But that is not enough. The property that I inherited 
is in the hands of my brother, who is a good man of 
business, and I have not touched the interest for ten 
years. I will send it to you, and you and your wife 
shall enjoy an old age free from care.” 

The paraschites had taken the little bag with the 
strip of papyrus, and heard the leech to the end. 
Then he turned from him saying: “Keep thy money; 
we are quits. That is if the child gets well,” he 
added humbly. 

“She is already half cured,” stammered Nebsecht. 
“But why will you—why won’t you accept—” 

“ Because till to day I have never begged nor bor¬ 
rowed,” said the paraschites, “and I will not begin in 
my old age. Life for life. But what I have done this 
day not Rameses with all his treasure could repay.” 

Nebsecht looked down, and knew not how to an¬ 
swer the old man. 

His wife now came out; she set a bowl of lentils 
that she had hastily warmed before the two men, with 
radishes and onions,* then she helped Uarda, who did 
not need to be carried, into the house, and invited 
Nebsecht to share their meal. He accepted her in¬ 
vitation, for he had eaten nothing since the previous 
evening. 


* Radishes, onions, and garlic were the hors-d’oeuvre of an Egyptian 
dinner. 1,600 talents worth were consumed, according to Herodotus, during 
the building of the pyramid of Cheops =,£360,000. 


UARDA. 


3 ° 4 

When the old woman had once more disappeared 
indoors, he asked the paraschites: 

“ Whose heart is it that you have brought me, and 
how did it come into your hands ? ” 

“Tell me first,” said the other, “why thou hast 
laid such a heavy sin upon my soul ? ” 

“ Because I want to investigate the structure of the 
human heart,” said Nebsecht, “so that, when I meet 
with diseased hearts, I may be able to cure them.” 

The paraschites looked for a long time at the 
ground in silence; then he said— 

“Art thou speaking the truth?” 

“Yes,” replied the leech with convincing emphasis. 

“I am glad,” said the old man, “for thou givest 
help to the poor.” 

“As willingly as to the rich!” exclaimed Nebsecht. 
“But tell me now where you got the heart.” 

“ I went into the house of the embalmer,” said the 
old man, after he had selected a few large flints, to 
which, with crafty blows, he gave the shape of knives, 
“and there I found three bodies in which I had to 
make the eight prescribed incisions with my flint-knife. 
When the dead lie there undressed on the wooden 
bench they all look alike, and the begger lies as still 
as the favorite son of a king. But I knew very well 
who lay before me. The strong old body in the 
middle of the table was the corpse of the Superior of 
the temple of Hatasu, and beyond, close by each 
other, were laid a stone-mason of the Necropolis, and 
a poor girl from the strangers’ quarter, who had died 
of consumption—two miserable wasted figures. I had 
known the Prophet well, for I had met him a hundred 
times in his gilt litter, and we always called him Rui, 


i 


UARDA. 


3°5 

the rich. I did my duty by all three, I was driven 
away with the usual stoning, and then I arranged the 
inward parts of the bodies with my mates. Those of 
the Prophet are to be preserved later in an alabaster 
canopus,* those of the mason and the girl were put 
back in their bodies. 

“ Then I went up to the three bodies, and I asked 
myself, to which I should do such a wrong as to rob 
him of his heart. I turned to the two poor ones, and 
I hastily went up to the sinning girl. Then I heard 
the voice of the demon that cried out in my heart: 
‘ The girl was poor and despised like you while she 
walked on Seb,** perhaps she may find compensation 
and peace in the other world if you do not mutilate 
her;’ and when I turned to the mason’s lean corpse, 
and looked at his hands, which were harder and 
rougher than my own, the demon whispered the same. 
Then I stood before the strong, stout corpse of the 
prophet Rui, who died of apoplexy, and I remembered 
the honor and the riches that he had enjoyed on 
earth, and that he at least for a time had known hap¬ 
piness and ease. And as soon as I was alone, I 
slipped my hand into the bag, and changed the sheep’s 
heart for his. 

“ Perhaps I am doubly guilty for playing such an 
accursed trick with the heart of a high-priest; but 
Rui’s body will be hung round with a hundred amu¬ 
lets, Scarabaei*** will be placed over his heart, and holy 

* This vase was called canopus at a later date. There were four of 
them for each mummy. 

** Seb is the earth; Plutarch calls Seb Chronos. He is often spoken of as 
“the father of the gods” on the monuments. He is the god of time, and as the 
Egyptians regarded matter as eternal, it is not by accident that the sign which 
represented the earth was also used for eternity. 

*** Imitations of the sacred beetle Scarabseus made of various materials were 


306 


UARDA. 


oil and sacred sentences will preserve him from all 
the fiends on his road to Amenti,* while no one will 
devote helping talismans to the poor. And then ! thou 
hast sworn, in that world, in the hall of judgment, to 
take my guilt on thyself.” 

Nebsecht gave the old man his hand. 

“ That I will,” said he, “ and I should have chosen 
as you did. Now take this draught, divide it in four 
parts, and give it to Uarda for four evenings following.** 
Begin this evening, and by the day after to-morrow I 
think she wall be quite well. I will come again and 
look after her. Now go to rest, and let me stay a 
while out here; before the star of Isis*** is extinguished 
I will be gone, for they have long been expecting me 
at the temple.” 

When the paraschites came out of his hut the next 
morning, Nebsecht had vanished; but a blood-stained 
cloth that lay by the remains of the fire showed the 
old man that the impatient investigator had examined 
the heart of the high-priest during the night, and per¬ 
haps cut it up. 

Terror fell upon him, and in agony of mind he 
threw himself on his knees as the golden bark of the 
Sun-God appeared on the horizon, and prayed fervently, 
first for Uarda, and then for the salvation of his im¬ 
perilled soul. 

He rose encouraged, convinced himself that his 
granddaughter was progressing towards recovery, bid 
farewell to his wife, took his flint knife and his bronze 

frequently put into the mummies in the place of the heart. Large specimens 
have often the 26th, 30th, and 64th chapters of the Book of the Dead engraved 
on them, as they treat of the heart. 

* Under-world. ** A very frequent direction in the medical papyri. 

*** Sirius, or the Sothis star. 


UARDA. 


3°7 


hook,* and went to the house of the embalmer to follow 
his dismal calling. 

The group of buildings in which the greater num¬ 
ber of the corpses from Thebes went through the pro¬ 
cesses of mummifying, lay on the bare desert-land at 
some distance from his hovel, southwards from the 
House of Seti at the foot of the mountain. They oc¬ 
cupied by themselves a fairly large space, enclosed by a 
rough wall of dried mud-bricks. 

The bodies were brought in through the great gate 
towards the Nile, and delivered to the kolchytes,** 
while the priests, paraschites, and taricheutes,*** bearers 
and assistants, who here did their daily work, as well as 
innumerable water-carriers who came up from the Nile, 
loaded with skins, found their way into the establish¬ 
ment by a side gate. 

At the farthest northern end stood a handsome 
building of wood, with a separate gate, in which the 
orders of the bereaved were taken, and often indeed 
those of men still in active life, who thought to provide 
betimes for their suitable interment.f 

The crowd in this house was considerable. About 
fifty men and women were moving in it at the present 
moment, all of different ranks; and not only from Thebes 
but from many smaller towns of Upper Egypt, to make 

* The brains of corpses were drawn out of the nose with a hook. 
Herodotus n., 87. 

** The whole guild of embalmers. 

*** Salters of the bodies. 

t The well-known passages in Herodotus and in Diodorus, are amply 
supported by the manuscripts of the ancient Egyptians. In Maspero’s able 
work on a papyrus published by Mariette, and on one in the Louvre, entitled, 
Memoires sur quelques papyrus du louvre, and Le rituel de Vembaume- 
ment, we have a mass of hitherto unknown details on the ritual for embalm¬ 
ing. Czermak’s physiological investigation of two mummies led to very in¬ 
teresting results, and demonstrated the wonderful preservation of even the most 
delicate tissues. His researches were printed in “ Sitzungsberichten der k. k. 
Akademie der Wissenschaften,” Vienna, 1852. The bilingual papyrus of Rhind 
also affords valuable information. 


3 °S 


UARDA. 


purchases or to give commissions to the functionaries 
who were busy here. 

This bazaar of the dead was well supplied, for cof¬ 
fins of every form stood up against the walls, from the 
simplest chest to the richly gilt and painted coffer, in 
form resembling a mummy. On wooden shelves lay 
endless rolls of coarse and fine linen, in which the 
limbs of the mummies were enveloped, and which were 
manufactured by the people of the embalming establish¬ 
ment under the protection of the tutelar goddesses of 
weavers, Neith, Isis and Nephthys, though some were 
ordered from a distance, particularly from Sais. 

There was free choice for the visitors of this pattern- 
room in the matter of mummy-cases and cloths, as well 
as of necklets, scarabaei, statuettes, Uza-eyes, girdles, 
head-rests, triangles, split-rings, staves, and other sym¬ 
bolic objects, which were attached to the dead as 
sacred amulets, or bound up in the wrappings. 

There were innumerable stamps of baked clay, 
which were buried in the earth to show any one who 
might dispute the limits, how far each grave extended, 
images of the gods, which were laid in the sand to 
purify and sanctify* it—for by nature it belonged to 
Seth-Typhon—as well as the figures called Schebti, 
which were either enclosed several together in little 
boxes, or laid separately in the grave; it was supposed 
that they would help the dead to till the fields of the 
blessed with the pick-axe, plough, and seed-bag which 
they carried on their shoulders. 

The widow and the steward of the -wealthy Su- 

* The purpose of the amulets is in most cases known, as almost every one 
has a chapter of the book of the dead devoted to it. The little clay cones and 
images are found in vast numbers, and may be met with in every Museum. 


UARDA. 


3°9 

perior of the temple of Hatasu, and with them a priest 
of high rank, were in eager discussion with the officials 
of the embalming-house, and were selecting the most 
costly of the patterns of mummy-cases which were 
offered to their inspection, the finest linen, and amulets 
'of malachite, and lapis-lazuli, of blood-stone, carnelian 
and green felspar,* as well as the most elegant ala¬ 
baster canopi for the deceased; his body was to be 
enclosed first in a sort of case of papier-mache, and 
then in a wooden and a stone coffin. They wrote his 
name on a wax tablet which was ready for the purpose, 
with those of his parents, his wife and children, and all 
his titles; they ordered what verses should be written on 
his coffin, what on the papyrus-rolls to be enclosed in it, 
and what should be set out above his name. With re¬ 
gard to the inscription on the walls of the tomb, the ped¬ 
estal of the statue to be placed there and the face of the 
stele** to be erected in it, yet further particulars would 
be given; a priest of the temple of Seti was charged to 
write them, and to draw up a catalogue of the rich offer¬ 
ings of the survivors. The last could be done later, 
when, after the division of the property, the amount of 
the fortune he had left could be ascertained. The mere 
mummifying of the body with the finest oils and es¬ 
sences, cloths, amulets, and cases, would cost a talent 
of silver, without the stone sarcophagus.*** 

The widow wore a long mourning robe, her forehead 
was lightly daubed with Nile-mud, and in the midst of 
her chaffering with the functionaries of the embalming- 

* The use of this material proves the extent of commerce in these early 
times, for green felspar is now known to be found only in countries remote from 
Egypt. 

** Stone tablet with round pediment. 

*** According to Diodorus i., 91, first class embalming cost one silvei 
talent, second class twenty minse. 


3 ro 


UARDA. 


house, whose prices she complained of as enormous 
and rapacious, from time to time she broke out into a 
loud wail of grief—as the occasion demanded. 

More modest citizens finished their commissions 
sooner, though it was not unusual for the income of a 
whole year to be sacrificed for the embalming of the 
head of a household—the father or the mother of a 
family. The mummifying of the poor was cheap, and 
that of the poorest had to be provided by the kolchytes 
as a tribute to the king, to whom also they were obliged 
to pay a tax in linen from their looms. 

This place of business was carefully separated from 
the rest of the establishment, which none but those 
who were engaged in the processes carried on there 
were on any account permitted to enter. The kolchytes 
formed a closely-limited guild at the head of which 
stood a certain number of priests, and from among 
them the masters of the many thousand members were 
chosen. This guild was highly respected, even the 
taricheutes, who were entrusted with the actual work 
of embalming, could venture to mix with the other 
citizens, although in Thebes itself people always avoided 
them with a certain horror; only the paraschites, whose 
duty it was to open the body, bore the whole curse of 
uncleanness. Certainly the place where these people 
fulfilled their office was dismal enough. 

The stone chamber in which the bodies were 
opened, and the halls in which they were prepared 
with salt, had adjoining them a variety of laboratories 
and depositaries for drugs and preparations of every 
description. 

In a court-yard, protected from the rays of the sun 
only by an awning, was a large walled bason, contain- 


UARDA. 


3 11 


ing a solution of natron, in which the bodies were 
salted, and they were then dried in a stone vault, 
artificially supplied with hot air. 

The little wooden houses of the weavers, as well 
as the work-shops of the case-joiners and decorators, 
stood in numbers round the pattern-room; but the 
farthest off, and much the largest of the buildings of 
the establishment, was a very long low structure, solidly 
built of stone and well roofed in, where the prepared 
bodies were enveloped in their cerements, tricked out 
in amulets, and made ready for their journey to the 
next world. What took place in this building—into 
which the laity were admitted, but never for more than 
a few minutes—was to the last degree mysterious, for 
here the gods themselves appeared to be engaged with 
the mortal bodies. 

Out of the windows which opened on the street, 
recitations, hymns, and lamentations sounded night and 
day. The priests who fulfilled their office here wore 
masks like the divinities of the under-world.* Many 
were the representatives of Anubis, with the jackal- 
head, assisted by boys with masks of the so-called 
child-Horus. At tjie head of each mummy stood or 
squatted a wailing-woman with the emblems of Neph- 
thys, and one at its feet with those of Isis. 

Every separate limb of the deceased was dedi¬ 
cated to a particular divinity by the aid of holy oils, 
charms, and sentences; a specially prepared cloth was 
wrapped round each muscle, every drug and every 

* There are many indications of this in the tomb paintings, and a papyrus 
(III. of the museum at Bulaq) confirms the idea. The art of moulding masks 
in a paste resembling papier-mache was early known to the Egyptians, and 
such a mask of the dead is not unfrequently found at the head of mummy 
cases. 


3 12 


UARDA. 


bandage owed its origin to some divinity, and the con¬ 
fusion of sounds, of disguised figures, and of various 
perfumes, had a stupefying effect on those who visited 
this chamber. It need not be said that the whole em¬ 
balming establishment and its neighborhood was en¬ 
veloped in a cloud of powerful resinous fumes, of sweet 
attar, of lasting musk, and pungent spices. 

When the wind blew from the west it was wafted 
across the Nile to Thebes, and this was regarded as an 
evil omen, for from the south-west comes the wind that 
enfeebles the energy of men—the fatal simoon. 

In the court of the pattern-house stood several 
groups of citizens from Thebes, gathered round different 
individuals, to whom they were expressing their sympa¬ 
thy. A new-comer, the superintendent of the victims 
of the temple of Amon, who seemed to be known to 
many and was greeted with respect, announced, even 
before he went to condole with Rui’s widow, in a tone 
full of horror at what had happened, that an omen, 
significant of the greatest misfortune, had occurred in 
Thebes, in a spot no less sacred than the very temple of 
Amon himself. 

Many inquisitive listeners stood round him while 
he related that the Regent Ani, in his joy at the victory 
of his troops in Ethiopia, had distributed wine with a 
lavish hand to the garrison of Thebes, and also to the 
watchmen of the temple of Amon, and that, while the 
people were carousing, wolves* had broken into the 

* Wolves have now disappeared from Egypt; they were sacred animals, 
and were worshipped and buried at Lykopolis, the present Siut, where mummies 
of wolves have been found. Herodotus says that if a wolf was found dead he 
was buried, and Aelian states that the herb Lykoktonon, which was poisonous to 
wolves, might on no account be brought into the city, where they were held sac¬ 
red. The wolf numbered among the sacred animals is the canis lupaster, which 
exists in Egypt at the present day. Besides this species there are three varieties 
of wild dogs, the jackal, fox, and fenek, cams cerda. 


UARDA. 


3 T 3 

stable of the sacred rams.* Some were killed, but 
the noblest ram, which Rameses himself had sent as a 
gift from Mendes when he set out for the war—the 
magnificent beast which Amon had chosen as the 
tenement of his spirit,** was found, torn in pieces, 
by the soldiers, who immediately terrified the whole 
city with the news. At the same hour news had come 
from Memphis that the sacred bull Apis was dead. 

All the people who had collected round the priest, 
broke out into a far-sounding cry of woe, in which he 
himself and Rui’s widow vehemently joined. 

The buyers and functionaries rushed out of the 
pattern-room, and from the mummy-house the tari- 
cheutes, paraschites and assistants; the weavers left 
their looms, and all, as soon as they had learned what 
had happened, took part in the lamentations, howling 
and wailing, tearing their hair and covering their faces 
with dust. 

The noise was loud and distracting, and when its 

violence diminished, and the workpeople went back to 

their business, the east wind brought the echo of the 

cries of the dwellers in the Necropolis, perhaps too, 

those of the citizens of Thebes itself. 

« 

“ Bad news,” said the inspector of the victims, 
“ cannot fail to reach us soon from the king and the 
army; he will regret the death of the ram which we 


* There was also a bull which was sacred to Amon. 

** The ram was especially worshipped at Mendes. The ruins of this city 
have been found at a short distance from Mansura in the Delta, and Bragsch 
has interpreted some inscriptions which were found there, and which throw 
new light on the worship of the ram, and on the accounts of it which have 
been handed down to us. The ram is called “ Ba,” which is also the name foi 
the Soul, and the sacred rams were supposed to be the living embodiment o» 
the soul of Ra. 


21 


UARDA. 


3 J 4 

called by his name more than that of Apis. It is a 
bad—a very bad omen.” 

“ My lost husband Rui, who rests in Osiris, foresaw 
it all,” said the widow. “ If only I dared to speak I 
could tell a good deal that many might find un¬ 
pleasant.” 

The inspector of sacrifices smiled, for he knew 
that the late superior of the temple of Hatasu had 
been an adherent of the old royal family, and he 
replied: 

“ The Sun of Rameses may be for a time covered 
with clouds, but neither those who fear it nor those 
who desire it will live to see its setting.” 

The priest coldly saluted the lady, and went into 
the house of a weaver in which he had business, and 
the widow got into her litter which was waiting at 
the gate. 

The old paraschites Pinem had joined with his 
fellows in the lamentation for the sacred beasts, and 
was now sitting on the hard pavement of the dissecting 
room to eat his morsel of food—for it was noon. 

The stone room in which he was eating his meal 
was badly lighted; the daylight came through a small 
opening in the roof, over which the sun stood per¬ 
pendicularly, and a shaft of bright rays, in which 
danced the whirling motes, shot down through the 
twilight on to the stone pavement. Mummy-cases 
leaned against all the walls, and on smooth polished 
slabs lay bodies covered with coarse cloths. A rat 
scudded now and then across the floor, and from the 
wide cracks between the stones sluggish scorpions 
crawled out. 


UARDA. 


315 

The old paraschites was long since blunted to the 
horror which pervaded this locality. He had spread a 
coarse napkin, and carefully laid on it the provisions 
which his wife had put into his satchel; first half a 
cake of bread, then a little salt, and finally a radish. 

But the bag was not yet empty. 

He put his hand in and found a piece of meat 
wrapped up in two cabbage-leaves. Old Hekt had 
brought a leg of a gazelle from Thebes for Uarda, and 
he now saw that the women had put a piece of it into 
his little sack for his refreshment. He looked at the 
gift with emotion, but he did not venture to touch it, 
for he felt as if in doing so he should be robbing the 
sick girl. While eating the bread and the radish he 
contemplated the piece of meat as if it were some 
costly jewel, and when a fly dared to settle on it he 
drove it off indignantly. 

At last he tasted the meat, and thought of many 
former noon-day meals, and how he had often found 
a flower in the satchel, that Uarda had placed there to 
please him, with the bread. His kind old eyes filled 
with tears, and his whole heart swelled with gratitude 
and love. He looked up, and his glance fell on the 
table, and he asked himself how he would have felt if 
instead of the old priest, robbed of his heart, the sun¬ 
shine of his old age, his granddaughter, were lying 
there motionless. A cold shiver ran over him, and he 
felt that his own heart would not have been too great 
a price to pay for her recovery. And yet! In the 
course of his long life he had experienced so much 
suffering and wrong, that he could not imagine 
any hope of a better lot in the other world. Then 
he drew out the bond Nebsecht had given him, held 


3 l6 


UARDA. 


it up with both hands, as if to show it to the Im¬ 
mortals, and particularly to the judges in the hall of 
truth and judgment, that they might not reckon with 
him for the crime he had committed—not for him¬ 
self but for another—and that they might not refuse 
to justify Rui, whom he had robbed of his heart. 

While he thus lifted his soul in devotion, matters 
were getting warm outside the dissecting room. He 
thought he heard his name spoken, and scarcely had 
he raised his head to listen when a taricheut. came 
in and desired him to follow him. 

In front of the rooms, filled with resinous odors 
and incense, in which the actual process of embalming 
was carried on, a number of taricheutes were standing 
and looking at an object in an alabaster bowl. The 
knees of the old man knocked together as he recognized 
the heart of the beast which he had substituted for 
that of the Prophet. 

The chief of the taricheutes asked him whether he 
had opened the body of the dead priest. 

Pinem stammered out “ Yes.” 

Whether this was his heart ? 

The old man nodded affirmatively. 

The taricheutes looked at each other, whispered 
together; then one of them went away, and returned 
soon with the inspector of victims from the temple of 
Amon, whom he had found in the house of the weaver, 
and the chief of the kolchytes. 

“ Show me the heart,” said the superintendent of 
the sacrifices as he approached the vase. “ I can decide 
in the dark if you have seen rightly. I examine a 
hundred animals every day. Give it here!—By all the 
Gods of Heaven and Hell that is the heart of a ram !** 


UARDA. 


3 1 7 

“ It was found in the breast of Rui,” said one of 
the taricheutes decisively. “ It was opened yesterday 
in the presence of us all by this old paraschites.” 

“ It is extraordinary,” said the priest of Amon. 
“ And incredible. But perhaps an exchange was 
effected.—Did you slaughter any victims here yester¬ 
day or— ?” 

“ We are purifying ourselves,” the chief of the 
kolchytes interrupted, “for the great festival of the 
valley, and for ten days no beast can have been killed 
here for food; besides, the stables and slaughter¬ 
houses are a long way from this, on the other side of 
the linen-factories.” 

“ It is strange !” replied the priest. “ Preserve this 
heart carefully, kolchytes: or, better still, let it be 
enclosed in a case. We will take it over to the chief 
prophet of Amon. It would seem that some miracle 
has happened.” 

“The heart belongs to the Necropolis,” answered 
the chief kolchytes, “ and it would therefore be mor& 
fitting if we took it to the chief priest of the temple 
of Seti, Ameni.” 

“ You command here!” said the other. “Let us go.” 

In a few minutes the priest of Amon and the 
chief of the kolchytes were being carried towards the 
valley in their litters. A taricheut followed them, who 
sat on a seat between two asses, and carefully carried 
a casket of ivory, in which reposed the ram’s heart. 

The old paraschites watched the priests disappear 
behind the tamarisk bushes. He longed to run aftet 
them, and tell them everything. 

His conscience quaked with self reproach, and it 
his sluggish intelligence did not enable him to take in 


3 l8 


UARDA. 


at a glance all the results that his deed might entail, 
he still could guess that he had sown a seed whence 
deceit of every kind must grow. He felt as if he had 
fallen altogether into sin and falsehood, and that the 
goddess of truth, whom he had all his life honestly 
served, had reproachfully turned her back on him. 
After what had happened never could he hope to be 
pronounced a “ truth-speaker ” by the judges of the 
dead. Lost, thrown away, was the aim and end of a 
long life, rich in self-denial and prayer! His soul 
shed tears of blood, a wild sighing sounded in his 
ears, which saddened his spirit, and when he went 
back to his work again, and wanted to remove the 
soles of the feet* from a body, his hand trembled so 
that he could not hold the knife. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

The news of the end of the sacred ram of Amon, 
and of the death of the bull Apis of Memphis, had 
reached the House of Seti, and was received there with 
loud lamentation, in which all its inhabitants joined, from 
the chief haruspex down to the smallest boy in the 
school-courts. 

The superior of the institution, Ameni, had been 
for three days in Thebes, and was expected to return 
to-day. His arrival was looked for with anxiety and 
excitement by many. The chief of the haruspices was 
eager for it that he might hand over the imprisoned 

* One of the mummies of Prague which were dissected by Czermak, hao 
the soles of the feet removed and laid on the breast We learn from 
Chapter 125 of the Book of the Dead that this was done that the sacred floor 
of the hall of judgment might not be defiled when the dead were summoned 
before Osiris. 


UARDA. 


3 1 9 


scholars to condign punishment, and complain to him 
of Pentaur and Bent-Anat; the initiated knew that 
important transactions must have been concluded on 
the farther side of the Nile; and the rebellious disciples 
knew that now stern justice would be dealt to them. 

The insurrectionary troop were locked into an 
open court upon bread and water, and as the usual 
room of detention of the establishment was too small 
for them all, for two nights they had had to sleep in a 
loft on thin straw mats. The young spirits were excited 
to the highest pitch, but each expressed his feelings 
in quite a different manner. 

Bent-Anat’s brother, Raineses’ son, Rameri, had ex¬ 
perienced the same treatment as his fellows, whom 
yesterday he had led into every sort of mischief, with 
even more audacity than usual, but to-day he hung 
his head. 

In a comer of the court sat Anana, Pentaur’s 
favorite scholar, hiding his face in his hands which 
rested on his knees. Rameri went up to him, touched 
his shoulders and said: 

“We have played the game, and now must bear 
the consequences for good and for evil. Are you not 
ashamed of yourself, old boy ? Your eyes are wet, and 
the drops here on your hands have not fallen from 
the clouds. You who are seventeen, and in a few 
months will be a scribe and a grown man !” 

Anana looked at the prince, dried his eyes quickly, 
and said: ^ 

“ I was the ring-leader. Ameni will turn me out 
of the place, and I must return disgraced to my poor 
mother, who has no one in the world but me.” 


320 


UARDA. 


“ Poor fellow !” said Rameri kindly. “ It was striking 
at random! If only our attempt had done Pentaur 
any good!” 

“ We have done him harm, on the contrary,” said 
Anana vehemently, “ and have behaved like fools!” 

Rameri nodded in full assent, looked thoughtful 
for a moment, and then said: 

“ Do you know, Anana, that you were not the ring¬ 
leader ? The trick was planned in this crazy brain; 
I take the whole blame on my own shoulders. I am 
the son of Rameses, and Ameni will be less hard on 
me than on you.” 

“ He will examine us all,” replied Anana, “ and I 
will be punished sooner than tell a lie.” 

Rameri colored. 

“ Have you ever known my tongue sin against the 
lovely daughter of Ra ?” he exclaimed. “ But look 
here! did I stir up Antef, Hapi, Sent and all the others 
or no ? Who but I advised you to find out Pentaur ? 
Did I threaten to beg my father to take me from the 
school of Seti or not ? I was the instigator of the 
mischief, I pulled the wires, and if we are questioned 
let me speak first. Not one of you is to mention 
Anana’s name; do you hear ? not one of you, and if 
they flog us or deprive us of our food we all stick to 
this, that I was guilty of all the mischief.” 

“You are a brave fellow!” said the son of the 
chief priest of Amon, shaking his right hand, while 
Anana held his left. 

The prince freed himself laughing from their 
grasp. 

“ Now the old man may come home,” he exclaimed, 
“ we are ready for him. But all the same I will ask 


UARDA. 


3 21 


my father to send me to Chennu, as sure as my name 
is Rameri, if they do not recall Pentaur.” 

“ He treated us like school-boys!” said the eldest 
of the young malefactors. 

“ And with reason,” replied Rameri, “ I respect him 
all the more for it. You all think I am a careless dog 
—but I have my own ideas, and I will speak the words 
of wisdom.” 

With these words he looked round on his com¬ 
panions with comical gravity, and continued—imitating 
Ameni’s manner: 

“ Great men are distinguished from little men by 
this—they scorn and contemn all which flatters their 
vanity, or seems to them for the moment desirable, or 
even useful, if it is not compatible with the laws which 
they recognize, or conducive to some great end which 
they have set before them; even though that end may 
not be reached till after their death, 

“ I have learned this, partly from my father, but 
partly I have thought it out for myself; and now I ask 
you, could Pentaur as ‘a great man’ have dealt with 
us better ?” 

“You have put into words exactly what I myself 
have thought ever since yesterday,” cried Anana. 
“We have behaved like babies, and instead of carrying 
our point we have brought ourselves and Pentaur into 
disgrace.” 

The rattle of an approaching chariot was now 
audible, and Rameri exclaimed, interrupting Anana: 

“ It is he. Courage, boys! I am the guilty one. 
He will not dare to have me thrashed—but he will 
stab me with looks!” 


3 22 


UARDA. 


Ameni descended quickly from his chariot. The 
gate-keeper informed him that the chief of the 
kolchytes, and the inspector of victims from the temple 
of Amon, desired to speak with him. 

“They must wait,” said the Prophet shortly. “Show 
them meanwhile into the garden pavilion. Where is 
the chief haruspex?” 

He had hardly spoken wjien the vigorous old man 
for whom he was enquiring hurried to meet him, to 
make him acquainted with all that had occurred in 
his absence. But the high-priest had already heard 
in Thebes all that his colleague was anxious to tell 
him. 

When Ameni was absent from the House of Seti, 
he caused accurate information to be brought to him 
every morning of what had taken place there. 

Now when the old man began his story he inter¬ 
rupted him. 

“ I know everything,” he said. “ The disciples cling 
to Pentaur, and have committed a folly for his sake, 
and you met the princess Bent-Anat with him in the 
temple of Hatasu, to which he had admitted a woman 
of low rank before she had been purified. These are 
grave matters, and must be seriously considered, but 
not to-day. Make yourself easy; Pentaur will not 
escape punishment; but for to-day we must recall him 
to this temple, for we have need of him to-morrow for 
the solemnity of the feast of the valley. No one 
shall meet him as an enemy till he is condemned; 
I desire this of you, and charge you to repeat it to 
the others,” 

The haruspex endeavored to represent to his 
superior what a scandal would arise from this un- 


UARDA. 


3 2 3 


timely clemency; but Ameni did not allow him to talk, 
he demanded his ring back, called a young priest, 
delivered the precious signet into his charge, and 
desired him to get into his chariot that was waiting 
at the door, and carry to Pentaur the command, in 
his name, to return to the temple of Seti. 

The haruspex submitted, though deeply vexed, and 
asked whether the guilty boys were also to go un¬ 
punished. 

“No more than Pentaur,” answered Ameni. “But 
can you call this school-boy’s trick guilt ? Leave the 
children to their fun, and their imprudence. The 
educator is the destroyer, if he always and only keeps 
his eyes open, and cannot close them at the right 
moment. Before life demands of us the exercise of 
serious duties we have a mighty over-abundance of 
vigor at our disposal; the child exhausts it in play, 
and the boy in building wonder-castles with the 
hammer and chisel of his fancy, in inventing follies. 
You shake your head, Septah! but I tell you, the 
audacious tricks of the boy are the fore-runners of 
the deeds of the man. I shall let one only of the 
boys suffer for what is past, and I should let him even 
go unpunished if I had not other pressing reasons 
for keeping him away from our festival.” 

The haruspex did not contradict his chief; for he 
knew that when Ameni’s eyes flashed so suddenly, and 
his demeanor, usually so measured, was as restless as 
at present, something serious was brewing. 

The high-priest understood what was passing in 
Septah’s mind. 

“ You do not understand me now,” said he. “ But 
this evening, at the meeting of the initiated, you shall 


3 2 4 


UARDA. 


know all. Great events are stirring. The brethren in 
the temple of Amon, on the other shore, have fallen 
off from what must always be the Holiest to us white- 
robed priests, and will stand in our way when the 
time for action is arrived. At the feast of the valley 
we shall stand in competition with the brethren from 
Thebes. All Thebes will be present at the solemn 
service, and it must be proved which knows how to 
serve the Divinity most worthily, they or we. We must 
avail ourselves of all our resources, and Pentaur we 
certainly cannot do without. He must fill the func¬ 
tion of Cherheb* for to-morrow only; the day after 
he must be brought to judgment. Among the re¬ 
bellious boys are our best singers, and particularly 
young Anana, who leads the voices of the choir-boys; 
I will examine the silly fellows at once. Rameri— 
Raineses’ son—was among the young miscreants ?” 

“ He seems to have been the ring-leader,” answered 
Septah. 

Ameni looked at the old man with a significant 
smile, and said: 

“ The royal family are covering themselves with 
honor! His eldest daughter must be kept far from 
the temple and the gathering of the pious, as being 
unclean and refractory, and we shall be obliged to 
expel his son too from our college. You look horrified, 
but I say to you that the time for action is come. 
More of this, this evening. Now, one question: Has 
the news of the death of the ram of Amon reached 
you? Yes? Rameses himself presented him to the 
God, and they gave it his name. A bad omen.” 

* Cherheb was the title of the speaker or reciter at a festival. We cannot 
agree with those who confuse this personage with the chief of the Kolchytes. 


UARDA. 


3 2 5 


“ And Apis too is dead 1” The haruspex threw up 
his arms in lamentation. 

“ His Divine spirit has returned to God,” replied 
Ameni. “ Now we have much to do. Before all 
things we must prove ourselves equal to those in 
Thebes over there, and win the people over to our 
side. The panegyric prepared by us for to-morrow must 
offer some great novelty. The Regent Ani grants us 
a rich contribution, and—” 

“ And,” interrupted Septah, “ our thaumaturgists 
understand things very differently from those of the 
house of Amon, who feast while we practise.” 

Ameni nodded assent, and said with a smile: “Also 
we are more indispensable than they to the people. 
They show them the path of life, but we smooth the 
way of death. It is easier to find the way without a 
guide in the day-light than in the dark. We are more 
than a match for the priests of Amon.” 

“ So long as you are our leader, certainly,” cried the 
haruspex. 

“And so long as the temple has no lack of men of 
your temper!” added Ameni, half to Septah, and half to 
the second prophet of the temple, sturdy old Gagabu, 
who had come into the room. 

Both accompanied him into the garden, where the 
two priests were awaiting him with the miraculous 
heart. 

Ameni greeted the priest from the temple of Amon 
with dignified friendliness, the head kolchytes with 
distant reserve, listened to their story, looked at the 
heart which lay in the box, with Septah and Gagabu, 
touched it delicately with the tips of his fingers, care- 


326 


UARDA. 


fully examining the object, which diffused a strong per¬ 
fume of spices; then he said earnestly: 

“ If this, in your opinion, kolchytes, is not a human 
heart, and if in yours, my brother of the temple of 
Amon, it is a ram’s heart, and if it was found in the 
body of Rui, who is gone to Osiris, we here have a 
mystery which only the Gods can solve. Follow me 
into the great court. Let the gong be sounded, Gagabu, 
four times, for I wish to call all the brethren to¬ 
gether.” 

The gong rang in loud waves of sound to the 
farthest limits of the group of buildings. The initiated, 
the fathers, the temple-servants, and the scholars streamed 
in, and in a few minutes were all collected. Not a man 
was wanting, for at the four strokes of the rarely-sounded 
alarum every dweller in the House of Seti was expected 
to appear in the court of the temple. Even the leech 
Nebsecht came; for he feared that the unusual sum¬ 
mons announced the outbreak of a fire. 

Ameni ordered the assembly to arrange itself in a 
procession, informed his astonished hearers that in the 
breast of the deceased prophet Rui, a ram’s heart, in¬ 
stead of a man’s, had been found, and desired them all 
to follow his instructions. Each one, he said, was to 
fall on his knees and pray, while he would carry the 
heart into the holiest of holies, and enquire of the 
Gods what this wonder might portend to the faithful. 

Ameni, with the heart in his hand, placed himself at 
the head of the procession, and disappeared behind the 
veil of the sanctuary; the initiated prayed in the vesti¬ 
bule, in front of it; the priests and scholars in the vast 
court, which was closed on the west by the stately 
colonnade and the main gateway to the temple. 


UARDA. 


3 2 7 


For fully an hour sAmeni remained in the silent 
holy of holies, from which thick clouds of incense rolled 
out, and then he reappeared with a golden vase set with 
precious stones. His tall figure was now resplendent 
with rich ornaments, and a priest, who walked before 
him, held the vessel high above his head. 

Ameni’s eyes seemed spell-bound to the vase, and 
he followed it, supporting himself by his crozier, with 
humble inflections. 

The initiated bowed their heads till they touched 
the pavement, and the priests and scholars bent their 
faces down to the earth, when they beheld their haughty 
master so filled with humility and devotion. The wor¬ 
shippers did not raise themselves till Ameni had reached 
the middle of the court and ascended the steps of the 
altar, on which the vase with the heart was now placed, 
and they listened to the slow and solemn accents of 
the high-priest which sounded clearly through the whole 
court. 

“Fall down again and worship! wonder, pray, and 
adore! The noble inspector of sacrifices of the temple 
of Amon has not been deceived in his judgment; a 
ram’s heart was in fact found in the pious breast of 
Rui. I heard distinctly the voice of the Divinity in the 
sanctuary, and strange indeed was the speech that met 
my ear. Wolves tore the sacred ram of Amon in his 
sanctuary on the other bank of the river, but the heart 
of the divine beast found its way into the bosom of the 
saintly Rui. A great miracle has been worked, and 
the Gods have shown a wonderful sign. The spirit of 
the Highest liked not to dwell in the body of this not 
perfectly holy ram, and seeking a purer abiding-place 
found it in the breast of our Rui; and now in this con- 


3 2 8 


UARDA. 


secrated vase. In this the heart shall be preserved till 
a new ram offered by a worthy hand enters the herd of 
Amon. This heart shall be preserved with the most 
sacred relics, it has the property of healing many 
diseases, and the significant words seem favorable 
which stood written in the midst of the vapor of in¬ 
cense, and which I will repeat to you word for word, 
‘That which is high shall rise higher, and that which 
exalts itself, shall soon fall down.’ Rise, pastophori! 
hasten to fetch the holy images, bring them out, place 
the sacred heart at the head of the procession, and let 
us march round the walls of the temple with hymns of 
praise. Ye temple-servants, seize your staves, and spread 
in every part of the city the news of the miracle which 
the Divinity has vouchsafed to us.” 

After the procession had marched round the temple 
and dispersed, the priest of Amon took leave of Ameni; 
he bowed deeply and formally before him, and with a 
coolness that was almost malicious said: 

“We, in the temple of Amon, shall know how to 
appreciate what you heard in the holy of holies. The 
miracle has occurred, and the king shall learn 
how it came to pass, and in what words it was an¬ 
nounced.” 

“In the words of the Most High,” said the high' 
priest with dignity; he bowed to the other, and turned 
to a group of priests, who were discussing the great 
event of the day. 

Ameni enquired of them as to the preparations for 
the festival of the morrow, and then desired the chief 
haruspex to call the refractory pupils together in the 
school-court. The old man informed him that Pentaur 
had returned, and he followed his superior to the 


UARDA. 


3 2 9 


released prisoners, who, prepared for the worst, and ex¬ 
pecting severe punishment, nevertheless shook with 
laughter when Rameri suggested that, if by chance they 
were condemned to kneel upon peas, they should get 
them cooked first. 

“ It will be long asparagus*—not peas,” said another 
looking over his shoulder, and pretending to be flogging. 

They all shouted again with laughter, but it was hushed 
as soon as they heard Ameni’s well-known footstep. 

Each feared the worst, and when the high-priest 
stood before them even Rameri’s mirth was quite 
quelled, for though Ameni looked neither angry nor 
threatening, his appearance commanded respect, and 
each one recognized in him a judge against whose ver¬ 
dict no remonstrance was to be thought of. 

To their infinite astonishment Ameni spoke kindly 
to the thoughtless boys, praised the motive of their ac¬ 
tion—their attachment to a highly-endowed teacher 
—but then clearly and deliberately laid before them 
the folly of the means they had employed to attain 
their end, and at what a cost. “ Only think,” he con¬ 
tinued, turning to the prince, “ if your father sent a 
general, who he thought would be better in a different 
place, from Syria to Kusch, and his troops therefore 
all went over to the enemy ! How would you like 
that ?” 

So for some minutes he continued to blame and 
warn them, and he ended his speech by promising, in 
consideration of the great miracle that gave that day a 
special sanctity, to exercise unwonted clemency. For 
the sake of example, he said, he could not let them 

* Asparagus was known to the Egyptians. Pliny says they held in their 
mouths, as a remedy for toothache, wine in which asparagus had been cooked. 

22 


330 


UARDA. 


pass altogether unpunished, and he now asked them 
which of them had been the instigator of the deed; he 
and he only should suffer punishment. 

He had hardly done speaking, when prince Rameri 
stepped forward, and said modestly: 

“We acknowledge, holy father, that we have played 
a foolish trick; and I lament it doubly because I de¬ 
vised it, and made the others follow me. I love Pen- 
taur, and next to thee there is no one like him in the 
sanctuary.” 

Ameni’s countenance grew dark, and he answered 
with displeasure: 

“No judgment is allowed to pupils as to their 
teachers—nor to you, If you were not the son of the 
king, who rules Egypt as Ra, I would punish your 
temerity with stripes. My hands are tied with regard 
to you, and yet they must be everywhere and always at 
work if the hundreds committed to my care are to be 
kept from harm.” 

“Nay, punish me!” cried Rameri. “If I commit a 
folly I am ready to bear the consequences.” 

Ameni looked pleased at the vehement boy, and 
would willingly have shaken him by the hand and 
stroked his curly head, but the penance he proposed 
for Rameri was to serve a great end, and Ameni would 
not allow any overflow of emotion to hinder him in the 
execution of a well considered design. So he answered 
the prince with grave determination: 

“I must and will punish you—and I do so by 
requesting you to leave the House of Seti this very 
day.” 

The prince turned pale. But Ameni went on more 
kindly: 


UARDA. 


33 1 


“ I do not expel you with ignominy from among us 
—I only bid you a friendly farewell. In a few weeks 
you would in any case have left the college, and by 
the king’s command have transferred your blooming 
life, health, and strength to the exercising ground of the 
chariot-brigade. No punishment for you but this lies 
in my power. Now give me your hand; you will make 
a fine man, and perhaps a great warrior.” 

The prince stood in astonishment before Ameni, 
and did not take his offered hand. Then the priest 
went up to him, and said: 

“You said you were ready to take the consequences 
of your folly, and a prince’s word must be kept. Be¬ 
fore sunset we will conduct you to the gate of the 
temple.” 

Ameni turned his back on the boys, and left the 
school-court. 

Rameri looked after him. Utter whiteness had 
overspread his blooming face, and the blood had left 
even his lips. None of his companions approached 
him, for each felt that what was passing in his soul 
at this moment would brook no careless intrusion. No 
one spoke a word; they all looked at him. 

He soon observed this, and tried to collect himself, 
and then he said in a low tone while he held out his 
hands to Anana and another friend: 

“Am I then so bad that I must be driven out from 
among you all like this—that such a blow must be in¬ 
flicted on my father?” 

“You refused Ameni your hand!” answered Anana. 
“ Go to him, offer him your hand, beg him to be less 
severe, and perhaps he will let you remain.” 

Rameri answered only “ No.” But that “ No ” was so 


332 


UARDA. 


decided that all who knew him understood that it was 
final. 

Before the sun set he had left the school. Ameni 
gave him his blessing; he told him that if he himself 
ever had to command he would understand his severity, 
and allowed the other scholars to accompany him as far 
as the Nile. Pentaur parted from him tenderly at the 
gate. 

When Rameri was alone in the cabin of his gilt 
bark with his tutor, he felt his eyes swimming in tears. 

“Your highness is surely not weeping?" asked the 
official. 

“ Why ?” asked the prince sharply. 

“I thought I saw tears on your highness’ cheeks." 

“Tears of joy that I am out of the trap," cried 
Rameri; he sprang on shore, and in a few minutes he 
was with his sister in the palace. 


END OF VOL. I. 


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